


Isn't That What Friends Are For?

by BatRat



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:00:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28082805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatRat/pseuds/BatRat
Summary: Who would've guessed that Clark Joseph Kent, the Superman himself, would be willing to try new things with his own wife, his best friend and said's best friend fiancee?---The polyamorous fic I finally had the energy to finish.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Clark Kent/Selina Kyle, Lois Lane/Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this is a heavily edited repost. Full work this time, though. Life happened, work piled up, I got the bat-virus (hehe) and I couldn’t keep posting regularly so I decided to take the thing down and only post it when completed. Some details: I made some changes in this version, for the better I hope, but this first chapter is pretty much the same. Also, when I write Catwoman, I like to write her olive skinned version. Why? Because I think she looks sexy with a darker skin tone, that’s it, sue me. Last point, my first full Bat read was the 90’s World’s Finest mini-series by Dave Gibbons and I’ve never recovered from Bruce playboying and taking a while to earn Lois’ respect. What I mean is: gloomy gloom vengeance is the night always very emo Batman is cool as hell and all, but the Bruce here is more the dark Bat with a millionaire playboy side to him than the full darkitty dark version in some popular media.  
> That’s it. Have a good read and I hope you enjoy it!

Bruce Wayne, the Batman — billionaire playboy and father by day, vigilante knight and commander by night — trusted no one. It was a tale he used to tell himself, being it an easy way to justify his borderline pathological need to control as much as he could everything that surrounded him, including the people in his personal circle. As one of the literal richest people alive, there was much to be responsible for — laboratories, factories, and shops all over the world with his very own name printed on their fronts — but, as a father and family man, there were even greater things occupying his mind. From his younger kids' grades to his older kids' jobs (one of them being a mobster, because peace of mind wasn't a right he was born to rejoice), and then his father figure's health, life was full of loves, challenges, and mundane quarrels to master and solve. As an addendum to the days of a thirty-something patriarch of a large family, there was as well the extraordinary permeating it all: how could he forget the danger he so foolishly imposed over loved ones? The life as an outlaw that he chose not only for himself, but also for his kids? His mistakes, so many they were, so big and unforgiving, and the consequential trauma they brought within… haunting his every breath.

Bruce was a distrustful person and that was for the better. He planned and reviewed what others did with overbearing hawk-eyes, but still prided himself as a hands-on man. No one did for him what he couldn't do first, no mistake he found was imposed on others to be solved, but was sorted and answered by himself. That was what made the Wayne-who-lived a ferocious businessman and a respected leader: he wasn't a boss, he was a commander. Not many men could successfully stand at his position without losing sight of what leadership was about, or without becoming inattentive and allowing themselves to be played by others.

It all came with a price, for sure. The man could barely relax and the worries extended their claws even in sleep — that was, when he was able to sleep. Bruce didn't know what was worse, the fits his muscles decided to throw at any unexpected sound or the way his mind wandered to places he never wanted to be. Nightmares were common and pretty creative: there were the memories, but the memories were mixed with even greater tragedies, and due to the flaws of his own leadership his son died on his arms over and over again, each time in more pain than before, until his face was deformed and reminded him of the monsters they once fought side by side. Were these monster people he was unable to save? Were they victims of tragedies such as his, but without a man like Alfred to hold them to values and humanity? Was he doing enough to prevent the death of humanism in people's hearts? Would he ever do enough? He had become not quite a monster, but not a man either, and his way of showing love was by distrusting and keeping his distance; getting too close meant hurt and the good people in his heart deserved none of it.

On an unrelated note, no wonder his love life was miserable: there were plenty of reasons to stay away from him no matter how easy it was to fall for fake smiles and empty pleasantries of a well-meaning young Dives. The fascination for the handsome and charismatic playboy always reached a dead-end when people realized he wouldn't give them more, and most would never even know why he didn't let them in. Not many could meet the monster underneath the man and defend themselves from the world he dwelled in. 

So he accepted that being Batman was more than enough to keep him fumbling around but never getting to live a romance, even though it took both time and experience to reach the inner peace needed to welcome lovelessness as an inevitability of his life. Sometimes, in the privacy of his room, Bruce cringed remembering how Vicki's life was endangered by getting too close: she was a cunning and intelligent woman, but unable to defend herself from the cruelty of an underworld of monsters. Being a bat was a curse too great for her and, as soon as Bruce realized that, he cut ties without looking back. It was for the better; though she cried, she cried for the man and not for the monster, for the memories she kept weren't ever to be tarnished by fear and rage.

It was for the better.

Knowing who and what he was, Bruce was aware that no one deserved the Bat to be inflicted upon them. He acknowledged his multiple facades, manias, and obsessions, his emotional stupidity and bottled up depression; in sum, that he was a walking psychiatric disorder with a multitude of unhealthy coping mechanisms. His absurd level of self awareness was only matched by his incapability of controlling the very things that made him an obsessive-compulsive manic-depressive. Sometimes, the man looked at himself in the mirror and wasn't able to recognize the face that stared back. Would he ever be able to navigate life like a normal human being? The answer was a probable no and by that point it didn't really matter anymore — Bruce made the best of what he had and kept trying to improve. It wasn't even like he was an unprivileged person; although money couldn't buy a semblance of normalcy for the monster, it for sure could provide a whole lot of comfort for the man and reach the monetary needs of his children. That was enough for him.

(And the truth was: if he wasn't rich, Bruce wouldn't've been able to adopt every child his heart decided to love at first sight, for he had a weak spot for kids — those little creatures full of potential, dreams, and energy — and a bank account large enough to support the ones he compromised with. Furthermore, the Batman, the Justice League, the Watchtower, every single one of his world-protecting people-saving projects were backed up by said bank account. If Superman and Wonder Woman endured the monster all of those years without giving up was because they knew he was necessary to make their plans into reality, for having a billionaire on the team had great strategic value. He was grateful for the money.)

So enough was enough, and for long he lived knowing that he needed nothing more. But life seems to take the most unexpected routes, for there was a day a Cat came in. And, as strays do, she put down the fine wall that kept man from monster.

Bruce liked to own his life as a chessmaster would to the board, but felines aren't fond of having owners, let alone an imperious one; for them, rules are made to be broken and strings are made to be pulled. No matter how much he dreaded this behavior, the challenge of playing with this particular cat came as an addiction, a game he couldn't get enough of. Selina didn't fear nor hated him, but instead loved the thrill of the chase and the adrenaline of the fights. She could defend herself, be it by the wit of her words or the quickness of her claws. Every model or actor he met, every flirtatious beauty or genius mind seemed dull and colorless in comparison to her wicked smile and smart mouth. In a world of blacks and whites, of rights and wrongs, Selina was made of a gray tone Bruce couldn't understand: he was supposed to antagonize her, he wasn't able to. She wasn't either man or monster, but both instead: she was so essentially human.

Thus they fell in bed together; figuratively, of course, and for obvious reasons: neither Batman or Bruce Wayne could be seen as partners of a burglar and a prostitute. People were judgmental, didn't believe in redemption, couldn't understand circumstances. Selina was never a murderer, or a torturer, or an abuser; what if she has been a prostitute before? She sold her own body, not the ones of trafficked children, like many well-off men and women in the high society he personally knew. Her wrongs were forgivable, her decisions comprehensible. The more Bruce thought of her, the more he admired and the more he desired — and she desired him back.

So time passes and the dark and unthinkable couple built their romance on this pure and undying desire; living together all those years of missteps and mistakes, of sex in rooftops and cars, of fights and disagreements and disguised romantic dates. They were what wasn't supposed to be, what could never be, but still they were. From dark alleys they moved to hotel rooms and from there to each other's houses, until home was in between the space of their embrace. The man still was a paranoid obsessive-compulsive and his lover still wasn't the biggest enthusiast of order and law, but now… The warmth of her kisses lulled him into peaceful nights of sleep. Bruce could let go when with her for she caught him when he was about to fall into the dark pit that surrounded his soul. She made him so essentially human.

However, though he trusted his lover (not that he ever would admit it), Selina was still a cat, too smart to be a safe and sound partner. She gave him peace, but also made sure to engage in conversations that only got more and more odd in content. Although he was a man in a bat costume dating a woman who meowed, he sure as hell wished she would be a little less adventurous sometimes. Normalcy wasn't expected, but she didn't even try.

"Selina, I don't think I understand what you mean."

They both were naked and sprawled around his queen sized bed, Selina reading a poetry book and Bruce answering Wayne Enterprises' emails. She had her head on his arm, making the task of typing a little harder than usual — not that he was going to complain any time soon. Her fresh washed hair smelled of orange blossoms and he would bury his nose on the dark short locks from time to time, that way pretending he had nothing to worry about. Life was perfect in between the limits of their bed.

"Oh, now I'm  _ Selina _ ", she said, closing the book and sitting on the mattress as if prepared to attack. A dangerous smile was directed to her partner, who breathed deeply and kept idly scrolling through his emails, hoping that indifference was enough to discourage her from keeping the topic going. But Selina didn't take orders as a Robin would, nor feared him as most of the people in their lives. What else to expect from the woman who fell for Batman? "Don't look at me like that,  _ Bruce _ . Lois was the one who had the idea, I'm just trying to make it happen."

"I'm not looking at you." 

The Cat chuckled that low menacing laugh of hers and pretended to give up on him to go back to her book, this time lying a little further away than he would like her to.  _ Message received _ . No one ever accused her of being merciful, the absolute stubborn of a woman.

After some minutes, Bruce sighed, closed his laptop and put it on the bedside table, continuing the conversation like it has never stopped. He hadn't had many options anyway: at the end of the day, loving Selina made him a better person, a less inflexible one, easier to give chances and listen to what people had to say — maybe even agreeing with them after enough convincing. Not because he wanted to be better but because he needed to, for she accepted no less and took no bullshit from him. "We don't have time to spare in indulgences like that, Cat."

The answer caused an unreadable smile to show up in his partner's face and pairing that with the way she slowly crawled in his direction like a panther, poetry already forgotten and fixed jade-green eyes of a predator ready to savour its prey, made a shiver go down his spine. Her nude and plump breasts weighed under her swaying body in a ridiculously arousing manner, brown nipples looking so inviting against olive skin. If he truly disagreed with the idea of a spicy double date, he wouldn't have gotten back to the topic, and he knew she knew that. It wasn't easy to make the Batman feel transparent, but Catwoman had a certain talent.

"It's a single night, Bat. It seems like you are afraid of enjoying it." She whispered, a finger going up and down at the side of Bruce's neck, caressing his ear and then slipping to where the muscles met shoulder. The man hummed, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in her touch. She chose this exact moment to sit back and cross her arms. The spoiled playboy in him opened his eyes to send a death glare in her direction, wishing she was less desensitized to his stares; but if Selina didn't fear the Bat when they were enemies, she wouldn't fear him now.

"We go to Metropolis, you get yourself righteously fucked by Kansas boy, I and Lois watch and then have our girl time together, we come back to Gotham. All in a single night."

"Language, Selina", he snorted. Truth be told, it wasn't a bad idea for them both who were so used to a non-normative relationship; damn!, it wasn't near to the craziest suggestion Selina had ever made. She had a way of making him feel safe in living their fantasies like nobody else had ever been able to. But he needed more time to measure the possible outcomes of putting Big Blue of all people in a situation like that one.

"Baby, I'm not your sidekick, stop deflecting", she said, hiding a laugh behind the poetry book. Bruce's heart skipped a beat; her mannerisms when completely relaxed were his rarest and sweetest treasures.

So he hummed aimlessly and reached for her, embracing that lean and strong frame in a passionate hug, mouth looking for her delicious and plump reddish lips. The man was already half hard and needed her now, no games or challenges, just her body to worship and love. Selina seemed to share his sentiments, for she embraced him back, legs pulling his hips near as they kissed and grinded, stopping just to find a condom. They got off quick and quiet, changing positions only to let her sit on his face until he was suffocating in the dark folds of her glorious cunt, chin all messed by the juices of her pleasure.

And that was why the owner of Wayne Enterprises decided to postpone by some hours a more than important lunch-time meeting with Lucius in order to fix him and his lover a late breakfast (in that case, to ask Alfred to do so, while he rummaged the kitchen looking for coffee beans and paraphernalia) and spend some extra time with her. Not that anyone besides them three would ever know that once in a lifetime Bruce put pleasure above duty. The butler was pleased — not only to have Selina around, but also to have his protégé relaxing for once. His furtive glances and smiles made Bruce feel like a child caught in mischief, but also like a family man who had his father's blessing. Would Martha and Thomas approve of her? Right now, it didn't matter. He felt peaceful.

But a fact was undeniable: Lucius Fox wouldn't leave his boss in peace if said boss didn't make it to the rescheduled meeting. Bruce couldn't get angry at the man for doing his job a little too well, managing to meet his caprices just as much as he cracked the whip. Sometimes he felt like the one being bossed around and, in all honesty, Bruce knew he was lucky to have Lucius as WE's CEO and didn't regret (much) seeing the potential in such a brilliant mind long ago. It came with negatives, though, as he knew his owner position was constantly threatened every time he slipped up, for the man probably had a mental plan to drop him in the bay and put Tim in his place.

Because of that, the chit-chat Alfred and Selina were idly throwing back and forth had to eventually be cut short, though it would be a lie to tell he hadn't allowed it to go on a little longer than it was supposed to. It felt so homely to watch the Cat kiss Alfred's cheek, like a daughter would to her father, and see the always so mannerly Englishman smile and flush at the unexpected display of affection. To interrupt it was necessary, although painful; they had to ready themselves and get going.

It took less than twenty minutes for the two of them to shower and dress. As a couple, the Cat and the Bat could be unusually quick and practical when it came to getting ready and Bruce, always the control freak, was thankful for that. Having an underworld life took away from people certain tendencies: he wasn't used to indulging in baths and would dress as if someone was about to jump him as he stood naked and wet for too long. Selina was more thorough when making fashion choices, but in compensation had a quick mind and an infallible sense of style which allowed her to always be just right for every occasion. It wasn't hard to understand how, half an hour before the said meeting time, mister Wayne and miss Kyle — casually dressed, him in a black turtleneck, navy blue elegant watch, her in a dark green godet dress, too well-cut to be a summer dress, but too short to be read as formal — were leaving the Manor, a red Aston Martin as the car of choice.

When the couple inevitably got stuck in Gotham's downtown traffic, Bruce's mind decided to rush back to their morning conversation. Selina was quiet by his side, attention caught by the Tchaikovsky played low in the speakers. Normally, he would be listening to the police radio, but for some reason the haunting emotion of slavic romanticism seemed more appealing that day. Love was really changing the gloomy Bat, wasn't it? He couldn't stop thinking about her smell and her silly proposition, the way she laughed at his attempts of deflecting the subject. To have her watch him being taken by another person, to see her body being touched by someone else…

He spoke before thinking twice, a question that only made sense to the two of them: "Watch?"

Selina didn't look at him at first, a concentrated expression on her face. She was pretending to not know what he meant by his rather random and meaningless question, but he was aware it was a play; she was buying time to build a perfect rebut, one that wouldn't make him run from the topic once again. He loved that on her, this nameless game they played where there were no winners, just a pair fighting for common goals: happiness, love, understanding… A little bit of fun as well.

"Oh, so do you want some alone time with Superman?" Was her calculated answer, said in a tone that wasn't really accusing nor questioning. There was a small smile on her face, a sly one, waiting for what Bruce had in his sleeve. He couldn't help but smirk as well.

His answer was more honest than clever: "I thought you would want some time with him."

Her grin got bigger, reaching her feline jade eyes. Now she was directly looking at him, a hand going up and down his leg to show appreciation. Bruce kept pretending to be absorbed in the traffic, but knew she was aware it was a facade, that he was challenging her to go further and finally take his composure away.

"Why would I?" Selina got closer and left a peck on his cheek, her hand now in between his legs, squeezing his thighs a little too forcefully. Bruce gave her a side glance, waiting for what she had to say. Her beautiful smile almost put him breathless, just like the way she leaned in to whisper in his ear, silk voice purring filth without a trace of shame.

"I rather watch you being fucked by our beloved boy scout hero. Maybe let Lois do it as well. He could take your mouth and she that ass of yours, force you to choke on him. You know what? I should film and sell it, show the whole world how Bruce Wayne likes to be fucked at both sides on all fours… let them know what a slutty boy you are." The mental image went straight to his cock. “Your face looks lovely when there’s cum all over it, beauty like that should be shared. Your interviews would be ten times more interesting if everyone knew that you have finally become Superman’s cockwhore.” Selina's hand trailed lightly over his crotch, not really touching, and then she leaned back on her sit, a smug smirk on her lips. The poor man knew that whatever tension was being created now would pent up for hours, maybe even days, until she gave him exactly what he needed. "She told me she has never done it before, believe it? Fuck a man into submission. I could guide her, help her screw you hard and slow until you are screaming for release, just the way you like it."

Bruce inhaled deeply, an easy smile creeping at the way she finished her little speech so relaxedly, looking through the window like she hadn't just spewed absolute dirt at him. There were things people didn't know about the man behind all the masks, things that were so easy around Selina. She hurted him when he needed to hurt, and held him like he was the most precious person on Earth when he lost sight of his worth. Poured all of her attention in his pleasure, delaying it for the longest time until he was so cranked up and needy she decided it was enough and he could let it go. They did a lot of love making, of quick fucks and dark alleys groping, but there was nothing like their little intimate game, the thrill of it. The Bat controlled everything outside his bedroom and, inside it, the Cat controlled the Bat. But the question lingered: were they ready to make someone else a part of this place sacred to them? There where she owned him?

As the couple neared Wayne Tower, Bruce decided to obfuscate and distract: "You are aware it's not normal to have sex with your friends." Not that such strategy would work with Selina, who took no bullshiting from him and could see just through every attempt. If having sex with 'friends' had a middle name, it would be Bruce Wayne, so as answer to the sheer boldness of an opinion like that coming out of the mouth of the man himself, his lover gave him a fond laugh and a dismissive hand gesture.

"The Bat talking of normal. We are not normal, baby. So why can't we try some consenting adults fun with our exquisitely hot friends? It wouldn't be your first time with a friend or more and I'm well aware of that, been there with you."

He pondered her rebuttal, knowing very well what kind of 'friends' she was talking about: the ones who were with him in parties and fundraisers, holding his arms in smiling pictures to the media, who frequented the hall of Wayne Manor but never further. Acquaintances at best, easily replaceable, untrustworthy, not as deep in his life as the Superman who had his back by every needed moment — and his super wife, who didn't like Bruce much, but who he could count with as much as Batman could count with anyone; and who also captured the jovial heart of Selina, a friendship so good for her he had no intention of damaging it no matter the reason.

"No friend like them, though." He whispered, part of him expecting the Cat not even to hear it. There was nothing wrong with her ears, though, and she repeated his rare affirmation of affection with a smile so genuine it warmed his gothamite heart: "No friend like them. But I trust them, don't you too?" (Not something that Bruce would ever admit as well as not something he needed to tell Cat; she already knew the answer).

"And! Your crush on Kansas boy is adorable, even though the way you avoid and hide it is so insufferable!"

The Bat clicked his tongue in disapproval and spent all of his willpower in not rolling his eyes. Selina chuckled and leaned closer, playfully nibbling the lobule of his ear with the confidence of someone who knew they were right. When it came to his heart, wasn't she always?

"Eloquent as ever, baby."

After a fair amount of judgemental looks and deep sighs by Lucius Fox, the final touches in a speech to the United Nations and an unexpected amount of help from Selina, their awkward conversation seemed forgotten and buried under hours of Wayne Enterprises' business followed by many more of Gotham patrolling. Bruce wondered if that life of constant occupation and danger wouldn't sooner or later bore or stress Selina out. She was Catwoman, but was she willing to forever be a bat and a Wayne? Furthermore, was it fair to want such a commitment from her? Wouldn't she be happier in a less troubled family? He knew by heart the answers she had to every single one of these questions, but weren't them just too good to be true… Maybe he just wasn't used to good things happening in his love life. He should seek happiness and pleasure a little more, accept the gifts Destiny gave him — like the awkward but appealing plan Selina and Lois had concocted and were waiting for the approval of the other two parts involved.

Thus it was all on him to give a thumbs up to their rendezvous. As his lover had explained to him earlier, the girl friends were waiting for an affirmative answer from him before asking Clark anything. She hadn't told him why, but the reasons were obvious: if the known bissexual playboy thought it was too egregious of an idea, the midwestern raised-methodist wasn't going to appreciate it as well; but in case both of them approved of their plan, Clark would need to be sure that Bruce was comfortable and willing. He was that kind of good guy.

That was why he found himself stopping the Batmobile at a dark alley by the end of their patrol, the night sky nearing dawn by now. Selina was by his side, looking a little suspicious, but too tired to question him. The fastest they solved whatever was going through the Bat's head, the earliest they would be back at the Manor, showering and eating — that was a rule every single one of his patrolling partners learned quickly.

"I don't have a crush on him." was all Batman said, like they were in the middle of a conversation and not sat in silence for hours following Penguin's goons to figure out what they were up to. But the Cat was smart and she knew very well what he meant.

She stretched her arms like a lazy panther and purred before answering. "You can't lie to me, Bat". There was an underlying tone of fake hurt in her voice and a small dramatic pout on her lips, like she was mocking his attempt at saving face. He didn't give up on his truth though, and added a little more honesty to it:

"It's just… Sexual attraction."

Catwoman leaned against him and nuzzled the uncovered part of his cheeks, making sweet sounds as he pulled her to his lap, arms around her body. "Hmm… Nice to know that I'm not in danger of losing you to Clark Kent." They kissed lazy and slowly, as if the sun wasn't about to catch them there. 

"Not a possibility. We can barely hold a conversation without a fight." Batman admitted in between caresses, a hand kneading her mellow and strong ass as she pushed his cowl away and entangled her claws in his sweaty hair. Robin better be at home and not in need of a lift, because he was already opening the top of her costume and licking the skin under her jaw.

"This makes my plan even better." Catwoman whispered while straddling him. It was hard to concentrate on what needed to be done when her round and full breasts were out of their leather enclosure, brown nipples already hard. Batman pushed her gently against the steering wheel and started licking the sensitive skin, making her hum in enjoyment. "Maybe sex will soften you boys and all those hard edges. You'd take a bullet for him before having a healthy talk."

"Bullets don't hurt him." He muttered, mouth full of her skin and sweat. She smelled amazing after all the running and jumping they had done and Batman felt like stripping her naked and licking every part of that delicious body until there wasn't a single spot he hadn't tasted.

"For God's sake, Bat, just shut up and let's do it. It's going to be fun." Catwoman said, pulling the fly of her top back to place, to her lover's discontent, who just grunted and nodded. "Is that a yes?"

"Hm." He repeated while she sat back at her seat, leaving him hard and bothered. The Cat meowed impatiently and he knew she wanted a verbal answer. "Yes."

Catwoman looked extremely self satisfied as she stretched again and purred some more.

"I'm calling Lois later this morning then. Let's go home."

That girl was going to be the death of his.

\----

On the other side of the bay, at the Daily Planet, Lois Lane was trying her best not to get skinned alive when Selina's message giving the green light to proceed with the plan reached her phone. It was a busy morning at the Planet, not due to any major world ending events, but because Perry White was having a bad day — and Perry having a bad day meant employees getting their poor asses kicked, sometimes not even metaphorically depending how much the chief loved them (the closest to him, the hardest the hit). Not that she deserved any of it: Lane was impeccable when it came to deadlines and overall work ethic; her constant quality made her a reference in their field and there was no reason for her to dread a wild editor-in-chief in search of an easy prey — not until he decided to target her spelling mistakes. The chief was constantly on the brim of busting his overworked heart, but he wasn't unfair and wouldn't bug anyone who didn't need a minute or two of tough love and rough discipline.

Clark on the other hand…

Clark was on a whole nother level of an ordeal. Her husband was not only constantly stumbling across deadlines but also taking more days off than most of their department combined. She knew the reasons better than anyone — marrying Superman came with a territory — and wouldn't judge him even for a second, but vouching for his heroism wouldn't be near enough to stop Perry from being on the verge of murder every time Clark gave him that apologetic smile of his and said that he was going to do his best. Sometimes the best someone could give wasn't enough to soothe grouchy old-man White, even if said someone was the Big Blue himself and a top of the league writer. The man was a genius with words — but a clown with dates. Kent's life was only shielded by the absolute respect and fatherliness the chief felt towards him, otherwise he would be so terribly dead.

The problem was, Lois needed Clark in high spirits despite the possibility of bombs being thrown in his direction, for it was her day of taking a step on the extremely secret and a little insane plan she and Selina had concocted. Her friend's message seemed to be a good sign and, even though she couldn't answer now, it was enough to reaffirm the need of having her husband in a good mood. Lane knew she could convince him of doing any and everything for her, but this was a big change in their a hundred percent vanilla and all-American marriage: it couldn't be about convincing the man she loved into matching her whims, but about giving him the opportunity of calmly making his own choice after being acquainted to the possibilities. A healthy decision to the mutual benefit of adventurous adults in a healthy relationship; otherwise she'd rather blow the thing up and knew that Selina would agree.

In all honesty, her biggest fear was hitting Clark's self-esteem. Their marriage was as perfect as it could be — they loved each other and spending time together, had nice and pleasurable sex as much as they could, kept the house chores in check, enjoyed having family fun and had a beautiful and amazing son. But what was life without a little adventure? Nothing was too good it couldn't be improved. The problem was: a stressed Kent meant a Kent prone to making outrageous assumptions, for instance that she wasn't satisfied with him or that, even worse, he wasn't enough for her. No, never! She had to paint this good ol' foursome as an hedonistic event, a chance of allowing themselves a moment of sexual leisure like they had never had before.

But for it all to work, she had to save Superman from Perry. Once again.

_ I'll call you after work, huney _ , she sent to Selina, before putting her heels on and walking towards her husband's desk, hips swaying maybe a little too much. "Babe?"

The absolute dork of a man looked at her in surprise, glasses falling to the tip of his nose. Lois' smile was stronger than her will of looking sensual as she fixed its frame on his face and messed his hair a little. Perry White better not be around to watch this, she prayed.

"Hey, babe. Why are you here?" Clark asked, an infatuated expression on his stunning blue eyes, almost too lovely to handle. His tie was all wrong, as it usually was, and the mess of his table wasn't comparable to hers but enough to present the hardworking journalist image. When she was in office instead of doing the fieldwork she excelled in, Lois tended to avoid looking for Clark. The love she felt was like the scent of lilies of the valley, gentle but all consuming; lacked the too bright colors of fits of passion but it was constant, light to carry, easy to fall deep in as if nothing else mattered, nothing but her husband, their son, the warmth of the home she had in their embraces. As a reporter, she couldn't afford getting lost into it while on shift.

"I'm here to save you", she said, going around the desk and leaning on his chair, hands on his shoulders. Clark pressed against her, cheek and nose snuggling her arm, an almost inaudible sigh as their skin touched. "Go on, Smallville, let me see what you got so we can finish it."

"And to what I owe your willingness to help me, ms. Lane?" The man looked up with pretend suspicion in his expression, making his wife giggle. She needed to focus, otherwise Perry would feel the happiness vibrations and come ready for a mano-a-mano. (Deep in her mind, she made a mental note of buying a nice tie or belt for him, the old killjoy deserved a gift after putting up with much of her dangerous research practices).

"Our marriage, I'm helping my beloved husband", Lois answered with playful confidence, giving him a soft flick on the nose, and by that making it his turn to quietly laugh. The way the corner of his eyes wrinkled and his dimples marked that stupidly handsome face would never grow old. He for sure could hear her joyful heart doing all of those dumb things only lovers could understand.

Clark replied by pulling her hand and giving it a swift kiss, those lips always so perfectly tender, his actions always so perfectly endearing. "You used to be a better liar, babe." Her replication came immediately for both were quick when it came to nagging, just like every couple in an amorous ten years' marriage: "You used to be slower, hon", and at that they hid their laughs as if they were teenagers on a first date.

"Remember you promised to come home today for the night." Lois made it obvious that it wasn't a question, a clear sign that unless the world was about to end or Kara had to go off-Earth due to important and immediate reasons, there was no debating this time. Her husband nodded thoughtfully as she played with his hair. "And I have a surprise for you, so I need you to be relaxed and alive. Since you always have my back, let me get yours this time."

But before Clark could start the endless questioning his wife was already prepared for (being an investigative journalist was almost as much of a useful tool for them as superforce or x-ray vision could be when it came to the small quarrels of daily life), the editor room's door opened with a loud crack. The energy of the whole office instantaneously shifted and, if Lois had her husband's refined senses, she would have known for a fact that most of her co-workers held their breaths collectively; Superman included.

In retrospective, the way they quickly sorted out what needed to be done was a perfect example of the camaraderie their marriage was built on. Perry didn't even have the time to notice that Lois was not on her table, or that she was stealing some of Clark's notes as he explained what his latest piece was about. As expected, he was pouring all of his heart on his usual crusades: ICE, board patrol, xenophobia, themes only an intergalactic immigrant could spend so much effort on and write so sharply about without losing his mind. It would be an understatement to say that his wife was proud of it: Lois Lane's heart almost exploded every time she saw his exertions on the laborious quest for humanism.

"Go on, send me these files. Let's kill it, farm boy." 

They got coffee after work, an orange and cool afternoon embracing the moment. A chance for them to go home together wasn't an ordinary one and Lois was settled in making the most of it. After all, the excitement she felt wasn't just about sex or plain hedonism — she was thrilled to please and starttle her husband, to create crazy stories together that weren't about super-people or homicidal politicians. Getting coffee and walking home while holding hands and chatting about whatever was the perfect opportunity to make him flustered about it, something to tell as a comical memory in the future.  _ Remember the time you asked me for a foursome in the middle of the street? _ , Clark would ask, and she would laugh and say:  _ the one you spat your drink everywhere and almost fainted? _

So they talked and walked, sometimes holding hands, other times leaning into each other like a pair of drunks, a hand over her face to hide the easy smile he was always able to take from her. How was it possible that, after all of these years, this farmboy was still able to charm her with an unmatched amount of silliness and wit only he could make a perfect mix of? No one could make her laugh like her long time lover did, make her unlearn for a couple of blissful moments all the pain and the suffering the world was full of. Superman gave hope to the people and to Lois he gave aim. Apart they were great, together they did great.

At some point of her life Lane had reached Batman levels of holding secrets; but keeping Clark from noting her excitement was still an impossibility, one she was counting on. Presuming that her husband would start the conversation about her surprise (and she knew he would), his willingness to do so would make it easier for her to present it naturally, adding to the astonishment element. It would be a flawless victory if she could make him blush as well.

After Clark led them to a park — a sign that he was enjoying their moment immensely and didn't want it to end — he slipped a hand to her back as he habitually would do when trying to make her feel comfortable, a move she knew all too well. Internally, Lois screamed in anticipation, awaiting for the golden ticket question.

It came quickly, in a soothing tone that nearly made her regret her plans (quasi but not quite, for Lois Lane was known for an unswerving resolve):

"You really want to tell me whatever is going through your mind, don't you?", he said, holding her closer and kissing her hair. They had long discarded the coffee cups and by now Clark was being extremely handsy, or at least as handsy as the protestant-raised farmboy would allow himself to be in public. Lois let an exhilarated ‘ _ hoo boy _ ’ and held him tighter. 

"You know me so well, Smallville." She said, voice intonation going all slick and smooth. Clark feigned a hopeless grimace and pretended to look for an escape route. "You dork. Want to try guessing?"

He pulled her closer by her waist, big and strong arms always making her feel so safe. It wasn't a feeling she liked to indulge in — being cared for, held by the fortress Clark was. Independence and self-reliance were virtues they both boasted over, the certainty that their marriage wasn't based in any kind of necessity, but genuine desire. This time, however, she welcomed the fragility of being Superman's girl and smiled against the crook of his neck. 

"What's on Lois Lane's mind? I have no chance." He murmured, hot breath tickling her scalp. She tried not to let the smugness show up in her smile as she looked up and held his face with both hands, making those maddeningly beautiful blue eyes look directly at her.

"Remember…" a mischievous pout made Clark raise his eyebrows, suspicious of her guile. "Remember that time you told me about your most dangerous boners? That all the top three involved missions with…"

The reaction of horror was immediate, his eyes wide open as he finished the phrase for her with a confused whisper: "Batman?" Now the man was truly looking for a way of fleeing the scene, probably fazed by her audacity of bringing up a post-coital confession.

"Batman." Lois hoped she wasn't grinning like a madwoman. "And it always offended me a little that you never got a dangerous one for me." At that point, the one and only Superman was about to bury his head under the nearest puddle of mudd. His blush was delicious and his wife wanted to kiss him until every part of his body was flushed.  _ Perfect _ .

"Babe." He raised an explanatory hand, all business-like, a mode automatically activated by the need to not explode on puritanical despair. "The least dangerous of these times I was in skin-tight uniform in the middle of metahumans, aliens and Batman. It doesn't matter how genius you are, it's easier to hide a hard-on from you than from him."

Just like that, he had met his demise:

"Oh, so do you think that…"

"Lois…"

"Batman is more watchful and smart…"

"Lois…"

"Than me?"

Clark groaned and hid his face in both hands, looking like an old man about to have a heart attack. "I give up, you caught me." He murmured in defeat, throwing his head back and sighing so loudly Lois feared for his lungs. There was a tiny smile on his face though, as if he was trying not to laugh, and she rightly so saw that as a signal that he wasn't feeling insulted by the unexpected turn of subject: there was space to make it even more awkward.

So she did, with a naughty hand running down his chest, caressing him in a quiet promise of intimacy later.

"Would you like to fuck him?" She whispered in a voice only for Clark, so small and inaudible no one else could even start to guess what she had just said. The outcome was that her husband, lover and best friend choked on air so desperately people around started to look and worry. Later, when they both were tucked in bed and hugging like the sugary couple they were, Lois would question if Superman could die of shock. Clark would laugh and beg her not to test such theory again, like the absolute dork he was.

After what felt like 30 seconds of fits of cough and heavy breaths of a drowning man, her husband finally recovered a semblance of dignity and squeezed the worst possible question out of his convulsing brain:

"Excuse me?"

Lois gave a peck on his nose and clarified her point, a little louder this time, still a faint whisper nonetheless.

"You heard me, Bruce agreed to a four-way." Clark's jaw dropped a little and he looked left to right, searching for an invisible danger, a wild bat ready to jump him. She giggled, holding both of his hands, an act he did not resist because apparently talking about sex was enough to incapacitate Superman. Take notes, Brainiac! "I'm not pranking you, babe, it's serious."

"Seriously serious?" By the tone of his voice, any passerby would probably think they were trying telepathic communication via intense eye contact.

"Seriously serious."

Lois watched every sort of emotion going through her husband's face: curiosity, fear, amusement, shame. She counted the seconds until his trademark white-teethed smile, big and unmistakably friendly would show up. No less than 10, she hopped, otherwise trouble in paradise could quickly show up as a possibility. It took him a dangerous squint at their surroundings and 6 seconds.

"You, me, Bruce and Selina?" He whistled, long and loud.  _ Such a handsome farmboy _ . Lois gripped one of his big and gentle hands tighter and started to pull him through the park, forcing him to keep walking. With a hidden smile, she asked "Is that a yes?", as if the premature death of Clark Kent by a shame induced heart attack hadn't been a possibility just a couple of minutes ago.

The man glared at the moon for a while, almost looking like he was expecting an answer to drop from the sky above. Lois was witful and had a daring edge to her personality, but she knew when to respect a moment of reflection. At the end of the day, her little surprise (if you could call it that way) was just part of a game they played; a set of cooperative charades and puzzles intercalated with nudges and jokes and then sex and love. If he didn't want to make any of her adventurous fantasies a reality, she wouldn't persist. They would pretend that this moment had never occurred and there wouldn't be a second talk on the topic. Limits existed to be respected, and both had shown over and over again that they cherished each other too strongly to fall for meaningless disrespect. She wouldn't hold Clark any lower than in the highest esteem.

Still lost in thoughts, the couple kept walking, hands intertwined. Whatever was happening in her husband's mind Lois would never know, but his firm grip on her was enough to calm any fear. The night was fresh and beautiful, and they had watched the sunset together. For a moment, she missed Jon and wished he was there with them with his high energy talk, occupying the seconds of silence. On the other hand, she wouldn't have been able to talk of sexual plans with Clark and being alone as a couple was a really nice uncommonality in their lives as parents. The boy was sleeping at a friend's house that night, right? That gave them more alone time and for that she was glad; being a mom was all about having a conflicted heart.

Lois was thinking of homeworks and school trips when her husband decided to talk again. By now, they were at their apartment's street.

"Bruce agreed?" He asked in a conversational tone, and not a single soul would guess he had almost had an apoplexy on the same subject barely ten minutes ago. Lois smiled at him and held his hand tighter, reassuringly: "That's what I said, Smallville."

More silence followed. Clark released her hand and pulled her nearer him by an arm on her shoulders. His expression was solemn as he tried to look for the right words.

"You are my wife, why do… why?" Was all he asked, probably expecting Lois to understand the unsaid inquiry. And she did; mostly because she was actually expecting something like that to be put on the table. Why would a good wife purpose on scarring the sanctity of monogamous marriage with a man her husband got the hots for? A comprehensible line of questioning.

Howbeit, what Clark didn't account for was how said wife watched him live his physiology without a word of complaint. The yellow sun increased his strength, his recovery, and his resistance, this was well noted by everyone who knew the Superman; whereas his ridiculously high sexual drive was probably ignored by even his closest friends. Why would they know? Lois herself had discovered it by her own, after realizing that his erections wouldn't go anywhere even after a great sex marathon. Once he got started he was insatiable, but he had never expelled a single protest at her incapability of keeping up with his needs. The man was loving and truthful even if he was so maddeningly horny. To hell with monogamy, he deserved a little fun.

So as they went up the stairs of the building they lived in, she fumbled with her keys and thought how to answer that question with honesty without making it look like a treat for her poor, sexually deviant husband. Once they were home, she had decided on what to say.

"Nice sex with friends we trust and like?  _ Hot _ friends we trust and like." She pulled her heels off and threw the keys over the counter. "We've been together for more than a decade, Clark, and we went through real shit most people wouldn't ever dream of. We are adults, we work to make this world a better place without gaining much in return. So why can't we indulge ourselves in pleasure from time to time? It's not a 'problem' if it's consensual, faithful and mutual. And you have been more than faithful considering that sex-drive of yours."

There was a long moment of silence as he weighed in her words. Lois smiled at his furrowed brows, the way he always had a hard time in accepting nice things to himself. They were together for more than a decade and still he was a bummer to take on vacations or even nights free from the cape. The lucky thing about their marriage was how both of them had fun being busy and workaholics.

He finally snapped out of his pensive state: "But with Bruce? He's kinda… You know."

At that, Lois let a loud laugh take her and they were both smiling at each other.

"Hot and absolutely infuriating?" She sighed dramatically before adding: "Plus Selina who is just hot."

It was Clark's turn to laugh, sitting at the couch with a heavy thud and taking his shoes off at super speed.

"Bless his heart, but I can't quite decide if I want to do him or kick him and I've been friends with the guy for more than a decade." Lois' smile was so big she was scared it would tear her face. A mix of loving and being unable to take Bruce was pretty much what everyone around him felt, to varying degrees. The man was a cultivator of enemies and loyal friends, his strong personality pushing and pulling with the same energy. His friendship with easy-going and well-meaning Clark Kent was as deep-rooted as it was improbable. But what was improbability in the life of a man who was born on another planet and survived the near extinction of his race?

"Why not both? I mean, doing and kicking." Lois asked, sitting by his side of the sofa and leaning on him. Her husband's laugh was still the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

"Will you punch him for me? That would be sexy." He answered once he could breathe again.

"That means you are in?"

"You bet I'm in."

Lois held a triumphant smile as she quickly typed a message to Selina, aware that either she did it then or hours after some mommy and daddy fucking.

_ Guess what, huney. _

_ Good news? _

_ Amazing ones. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene is 100% a poor excuse of a gag scene and I'm so not sorry. But we have many sexy times in this capter! Have fun!
> 
> Edit: ok, that's a SUPER LATE WARNING, but I forgot to put a big fat CW for some kink-ish stuff in this chapter. It's mostly a vanilla fic but, BIG FAT CONTENT WARNING, there are some bondage, mommy play, cock and ball torture and maybe a little bit of humiliation somewhere (including the r-slur) in the middle. Nothing much, just... Just a yummy smell of it. In case it's not your thing, please proceed with caution.

Clark was happy. He wasn't yet sure on why: if it had to do with his wife's or his cock's enthusiasm. For reasons unknown, there was no jealousy or insecurity in his heart, feelings that he was expecting to show up the moment Lois had proposed a foursome with his best friend and best friend's fiancee. There should be at least a part of him questioning himself if she wasn't tired or uninterested in their sex life, being that a common route many marriages took after 10 years. But truth was that being a member of the Justice League had opened his mind to uncountable possibilities: as Superman, he had traveled the whole world, taken missions across the galaxy and met many different cultures, races and peoples that lived love and sex in the utmost diverse ways — nothing changes a man quite like discovering the immensity of the Universe and Life itself. Even a man who rooted himself so deeply in human morals to feel less like who he truly was, not quite human, not alien as well

At the end of the day, Clark was much more than the farmboy raised methodist many saw him as; and now, thinking about it, there lied the source of his happiness: Lois was aware of that. While the whole world knew a single face of the coin, she saw much deeper than the duality of his existence — at this point of their relationship, there wasn't a Kent and a Superman in her eyes. Even though Clark himself tried his best to be as human as possible, hiding the parts of him that uncovered the farce, she saw the whole; she saw that, by this point of their lives, his fears and insecurities were less of an obstacle and, with that in mind, made a bet on his acquired open mindedness. She had merely called it 'pleasure' but he knew what all of that was about, that it was Lois' way of saying that we aren't normal and we don't need to pretend to be. His sex drive had always been a source of shame for him but it didn't need to be anymore, not where she was concerned. It took years for that change to happen and it was mostly due to his fear of asking for more than of her not wanting to allow more. What a blessing it was to be Lois Lane's husband.

Either that or he was overthinking, but in any case there would be sex at the end of the road; Clark could live with that. But he should really clarify the terms of use with both his wife and friends. Was it a one time experience? What word had Lois used? Four-way, right? Was a four-way some sort of polyamorous relationship or just a fancy term for an orgy? Because the weekly Justice League meeting was scheduled to the following day and by no means he would be able to look at Bruce without popping an inappropriate boner once again. He almost could feel his friend's body under his, sounds of blood rushing and strangled inhales, hands on his hips as he maneuvered him with ease, fucking that unbelievably strong ass…

"Babe”, he said, looking at Lois who was typing furiously on her phone. He was still sitting on the couch, face flushed by his own fantasies. The worst part: he felt slightly juvenile surrounded by so many insecurities and questions even though he was a father and almost forty. For God's sake!, he wasn’t supposed to be freaking out because of sex.

"What's up?" Lois threw her phone at the nearest couch and started taking off earrings and watch, like everything was just as normal as things could be (oh, to be a terran woman without a one track mind towards sex). He still could tell that she was more cheerful than usual and for that he was grateful — her smile was contagious and the way her body moved towards him, confident and sensual, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, no matter how many intimate moments they shared. She straddled his legs, making her black pencil skirt go up, and exposing those soft white thighs he loved so much.

"What are the rules? Is it a… you know, a single night pretend it never happened kind of thing?" Clark did his best to talk in a level and serious voice, but with his wife's fingers going up his chest the task seemed infinitely harder.

"Do you want it to be more?" Lois murmured, those lilac outstanding eyes losing nothing. As she caressed his neck with the tip of her nails, he moved his own hands under the skirt to grab that small but firm ass. "Selina and I agreed to have a call in an hour to discuss it all. You can bring it up."

"I don't want you to feel like I'm, hm…" She kissed his jaw and he lost track of what he was saying for a couple of seconds, a common effect she had on him. "Being not so fair to…" Now those artful hands were opening his shirt and he could only focus on the way Lois bit her lower lip while doing so. There was no respect for his line of thought in this house, but Clark kept trying. "You know, I want to…"

But his wife kissed him on the lips this time, and his hands were full of soft skin, and she was pulling herself closer to him, his now naked chest being caressed by skillful fingers. "You want to fuck Bruce and you can't really wait.” Lois murmured against his mouth, a smug smile on her face. "But patience is a virtue, babe, so get acquainted with it. Now come here, Jon is sleeping at a friend's house today, let's start the game."

"You don't let an end hang loose, do you?" He said, more level headed now that the words fuck and Bruce had been said in the same phrase — although he wanted it maybe a little too much, there was still a layer of a danger that kept him alert, the same hazard alarm that almost killed him affright in the park. The odds still told him that a wild bat would make an appearance out of nowhere and slice him open.

In order to regain the little control he still had, Clark grabbed Lois by the waist and swiftly laid her on the couch, pinning her down with a strong hand over her stomach. The woman just laughed breathless and kept talking, hands once again finding his naked chest and going directly to his nipples.

"I'm Lois Lane, Smallville. I do it right from start to finish. That's why you like me, remember?” She giggled, thumbs drawing circles around his chest whereas he fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. "Also it's completely fine by me, keeping it in between us four. Or do you really think this is just for you? Have you ever seen Selina with that whip of hers? I really want to see her in action, she's so femme fatale it makes me weak."

Clark savoured the idea while grabbing her breasts, hands under her bra. One of their strange preferences involved going the first round with clothes on; he enjoyed the inelegant feeling of brusqueness when fucking Lois without even taking time to undress — or having a quick one in a place they shouldn't be fucking in. As her long time partner, she was already opening the fly of his pants and pulling them down, knowing what was about to come, and he took the moment to dive on her neck and lick the taste of that pale and soft skin.

"That was the least heterosexual thing you have ever said, Lois." He murmured, forgetting about her breasts for a moment to busy himself with tearing her underwear apart. Later on, he would regret doing so because the carelessness meant he was the one paying for a new pair, but now there was no chance he was backing even a single inch from her body.

"Maybe because I'm not”, was her answer before he finally aligned the tip of his cock with that wet cunt of hers.

She had been mildly excited for a while, likely lost in her own fantasies for the whole day, but that didn't mean he was going in without a tease. Clark pushed the tip of his dick against her clitoris, using his own member to masturbate her. Superspeed came in handy in moments like this and, despite the fact that he couldn't surpass the lowest setting of a vibrator without losing rhythm, it wasn't a negligible skill. Lois loved it as she showed by gripping his waist and grinding on him, using his body as her own sex toy. It was almost enough to make him come; she herself was able to as known by experience. She soaked his member and the curve of her tights, moving hips in circles as he caressed a breast of her, pulling a pink and rigid nipple in between fingers, lightly twisting it just to hear that low moan in the back of her throat. As she approached orgasm, what he could tell by the way she curled her knees and shoulders, he stopped the vibration and grabbed a handful of her chest with force, making her squirm and protest. _Greedy_ , he murmured and she laughed.

Only that his patience was running low and he needed to fuck someone. Without a forethought, he slipped inside in a hard thrust making his wife lose her breath, and decided on kissing her before she could possibly think of some smart comment on his eagerness, simultaneously using his hands to level her hips to a position he could go in deeper. Their usual rhythm wasn't by any means slow, but this time Clark felt notably hungry. One of the burdens of having such unusual strength was the knowledge that he could never give his all, but Lois allowed him to be more than enough — she never cared for the bruises, at least not as much as he himself did.

Her pussy felt so hot and the sounds Lois made were maddeningly arousing, that small hitch of breath and throat deep moans that mixed so we'll with his own grunts as he fucked that marvelous body. Clark could feel how she clenched around his cock, and could hear the slick sounds as he pounded so deep there was no way it wasn't at least a little painful. But that was how Lois liked it, as she also enjoyed grabbing his neck and tirelessly moving her hips against his, finding him by each thrust, the contact of their bodies producing the unmistakable sound of skin against cloth.

Before he could come and lose that edge so sharp it almost cut, he pulled out and disentangled from her arms against his own better judgment, receiving a less than intimidating glare in response. Lois' cheeks were flushed and her lips so red and inviting he had to kiss her, too quick for their liking but enough to make them want more. Clark felt his own cock protesting his decision, red and dripping wet from the juices of her cunt, and so hard it could open holes on his wall. Once again, he pushed the head of it against her now engorged clitoris, and she cried out as he vibrated it, her hands immediately looking for him and finding his chest, his nipples, grabbing and scratching a skin that wouldn't mark, but that still felt so good under those nails.

Lois reached her orgasm with an almost inaudible groan, closing her eyes as she shivered from the top to the end of her spine, all of her body clenching for a couple of seconds and then immediately relaxing. Clark took this moment to push inside once again, rougher than before, the added slickness of her come making it so hot and delicious. She gasped, not even able to articulate a moan as he pistoned inside her, faster and harder. He grabbed his wife by her nape and pulled her nearer, making her sit on his cock as he moved her body up and down effortlessly. She blindly looked for his mouth, finding him in a hungry kiss that didn't last for long, for he moved her so brutally she couldn't keep up with him, even if her arms were tightly embracing his neck. The breast he had pulled out of her bra rocked invitingly near his face, and he caught it with his mouth, sucking a red mark on her skin, licking her pink nipple.

Clark came inside her with a grunt, holding her down and in place. It felt so pathetically good to shoot it inside her, his dick spasming surrounded by the walls of her wet and hot cunt, His heart had gone on overdrive and his head felt light as they hugged for a few moments until he could come back online. Damn, those clothes would need a wash after that.

Lois was the first one to move and, for a second, he thought she was going to go way; so he grabbed her tighter and murmured against the skin of her face, _I want to eat your pussy, fuck, can I eat you_?, her hips rocking slowly on his still hard cock as she found his mouth for a kiss that, once again, didn't last long. In seconds, his wife was on her back, skirt hastily being pulled from her (and he prayed it wasn't one more destroyed item for him to pay for), knees bent. He buried his face in between her legs, pulling them away to have better access. Her skin was so fair there, contrasting with the pink and swollen lips of her cunt. His own come was dripping from it, a sight that would never get less arousing. So he decided to lick the edge of her vagina first, feeling her salty taste mixed with the more bitter one of himself, tongue then going a little further inside her a hand of his found her other hole, caressing the rim of it and receiving a satisfied sigh. He smiled, thinking of Bruce fucking her in the ass, laid on her side as she liked, and the naturality of how this image came to his mind was almost scary — although the way it made him feel his cock twitch was even more frightening.

Suddenly, he raised his head in a sharp move, glaring with curiosity at his wife. Lois moved an eyebrow, her way of saying 'what' without proffering a word. Some would call it scarily inquiring, but Clark preferred to describe it as adorable. 

"What do you mean by maybe you are not? Lois, you ooze heterosexuality”, he said instead of what was on his mind, as if a reporter would be fooled by an amateur move like this one. Not many people could lie to Clark, being a sun-powered alien came with a whole set of powers under it — but it seemed that none of those powers made him able to properly lie as well, let alone to his wife.

"For real, Smallville?" She laughed and lightly squeezed his head in between both tights. "You know I'm attracted to women that can kick my ass. Now that we took that out of our way, tell me the actual reason that you stopped eating me out so I can punch you."

Clark laughed and kissed the sensitive skin at the back of her knee. He left a trail of saliva and red marks from there to the direction of her intimacy, stopping once again to aim some more stings at his wife.

"No, now you wait." She groaned, throwing her head back in total disbelief and once again Clark had to laugh. With a serious and even voice, he continued: "Superman loses his girl to Catwoman? Tomorrow on the news."

This time Lois pinched his nose, a mischievous smile on her face as she raised an eyebrow and whispered, voice low and sultry:

"I prefer: Clark Kent watches his wife being fucked by Selina Kyle and the Wayne playboy." A loaded silence settled over them both for a couple of seconds, as Lois caressed his messed up hair and he kissed the insides of her thighs, feeling relieved. But for what? The fact that his wife wanted him to watch her being taken by another man? It wasn't an uncommon or outrageous fetish. Or maybe was it because they were talking about Bruce? "Imagine the pornhub engagement in that one." She added after a while, rendering a snicker from him.

"Is it ok with you that I really want to see that?", was all he could think of saying, a question too charged with insecurities for a man who was facing the wet pussy of his lover while she talked about group sex.

"So that was the reason?" Their eyes met for a split second and he nodded curtly, giving the apparently silly moment the true weight it carried. Lois seemed to think for a while, staring at the ceiling with a serene expression. She didn't look at him before sitting back up, but there was a smile on her glossy lips. "We are all deviants, babe, don't you beat yourself up. Now hide that boner, you reminded me that we have a scheduled call with Selina."

They ended up half naked anyways, Lois stating that she hated the idea of getting dressed again when they were rather supposed to be taking a bath. Clark was fine with it for having his wife roaming their apartment only in lingerie was an exceptional event ever since they became parents. It was nostalgic to be sprawled together on the sofa only in underwear, the TV playing in the lowest volume, the night hot and full of promises. They decided on ordering a pizza instead of making dinner, another thing full of an old-times feel to it. But before eating, Lois took the time to facetime Selina of all things, to her husband's amusement and slight affliction. The Catwoman answered before the second ring came through.

"Lois Lane! Super." Clark could tell she was at the Manor. He didn't know where exactly, to no surprise considering he had been to the place twice and never saw much of it. He also could hear Bruce's even breathing somewhere, a sound unmistakable to him, though the microphone reach wasn't enough to tell him what he was up to. His friend's fiancee presented them a genuine bright smile and looked younger than ever as she did so.

"Selina Kyle!" Lois answered, an even brighter grin on her own face. He had learned to value their friendship; his wife had a sympathy for danger and sometimes would end up in deep trouble by entenglaling herself in it, but Catwoman showed genuine affection for her and, at the same time, understood this side of the world Lois gave her life to investigate. Strange would be in the case in which they didn't like each other, for they both were strong-headed women, too smart to their own good. "Is Bruce there?"

"Yes, he is”, the ex-villainess confirmed, and now her smirk went back to the one he knew better, that edgy and full of mysteries smile that Clark learned meant danger..

"Do you both rather have The Call now or later?" His wife asked and, for a second, he felt like they were a bunch of goons trying too hard not to sound suspicious, or a child in their attempts of hiding their sibling's surprise birthday party. He snorted and let himself smile.

"Our lovely Bat is kind of busy now, but we discussed his opinions on the matter earlier. Anything I decide he will comply." Considering all of the improbable and unthinkable things this situation could turn into, this was the last one Clark expected to face. The shock rang an alarm on his heart, a sort of sixth sense that told him his long time battle mate was in danger. The Bruce he knew was a relentless leader who barked orders at his colleagues, a man who listened to the ones around him until a decision needed to be made — and part of it could be blamed on his tendency to actually know best, but also a large chunk had to do with his need for control. So, as the good friend he at least tried to be and trying his best to sound good-spirited instead of accusing, Clark intervened:

"How busy? Can't he just pretend for a second he doesn't hate people?" Even to himself, his voice sounded more imperative than it should have. Selina seemed unfazed by it, a side loop smile showing her comfort in answering:

"He is…", her giggling resembled more a playful cat than a person; it was captivating in the scariest manner possible. In what world would Bruce settle for a person less than unique? "You know what? Images speak louder than words. He gave me the green light to show him, so the only permission I need is from you. Nudity is fine, right?"

Clark looked at Lois, who was already side eyeing him. They both shrugged simultaneously, what made his wife chuckle to herself.. "Fine", she said.

The video call went black for a couple of seconds, during which Clark could hear the interaction between the couple. There was a soft sound of gentle taps, like someone was trying to catch the attention of another person. Selina's voice was dark and commanding, but at the same time had a motherly tone to it, like when you are picked by your mom at school after a well-deserved suspension. _Look at me, boy, sh_ e said, and he heard Bruce's breath change its usual pace to a more excited one. _Lois and Clark are on the phone, I'll open the camera. Behave, do you hear me?_ His friend hummed affirmatively and a three or four seconds pause passed before the slap came.

Clark was more than sure it was a sla, and he turned to Lois with a raised eyebrow, knowing _very well_ what a hit in this setting meant but not sure if he wanted to believe his super-ears. The sound was so loud it was probable she had heard it too, but still she was calm as ever, an easy-going smile plastered on her face. Never in a thousand years he had imagined that Bruce would be the type to enjoy this kind of treatment in bed, for it was so far from his personality. Was he the only one shocked by such revelation? Before he could protest the normalcy his wife presented towards it all, Selina talked at her lover once more:

 _I told you before: when I ask you a question, answer it with words. Are you retarded?_ She sounded so angry even Clark felt the weight of these words. Bruce's heart was by now beating so loud he could at last hear it through the phone speakers — that heart was the most rhythmic one he had ever heard among humans and an abrupt change in its pace wasn't a thing Clark was used to. Deep inside of him, a desire he had suppressed for many years made him long to have the same effect on Bruce's body. He questioned himself if fucking Selina infront of the playboy would do the trick and hoped so, because there was no chance he wasn’t doing it the moment he had the chance. 

_Yes, ma'am_ , his friend answered in a tone so tame it made Clark's skin tingle and his cock twitch. He wanted _to fuck_ that obedient and meek voice, make him accept his decisions without questioning for the first time. God bless Lois Lane for giving him the chance of not only witnessing the unthinkable but also having a chance with it — what had he done to deserve this absolute genius of a woman? He wanted to work it out to the point where Bruce trusted him the way he trusted and submitted to his fiancee, and though maybe there was no place for him to try it, what was life without fantasies?

The video went back to normal and Selina was now standing away from the phone, the camera showing her in a very short purple night robe. It looked so good against her olive skin Clark would've missed Bruce if he wasn't looking for the man.

Bruce, who was on his knees by her side, hands behind him, back erect but head hanging low, body completely naked and tied up. The collar on his neck was silky black and undeniably beautiful against his pale skin. There was a bar in between his thighs, keeping them spread in a position that probably took too much energy to balance; his penis was trapped by a metal cage that looked excruciatingly small; and his body was flushed and soaked in sweat. Clark couldn't see much of his face, but the little that wasn’t hidden was tainted in red. Being in that position in front of a colleague was no doubt of extreme humiliation to the Bat, and out of sudden his friend couldn't feel anything but deep affection towards him. Bruce was allowing them to watch a part of him almost no one acknowledged — a side that maybe was only known by his future wife and now, by this pair of friends. There was an inconceivable amount of trust in that, even though Clark knew he would never admit it out loud.

"Fuck”, was all Clark could say after a couple of seconds, that being pulled out of him by the magnitude of the moment. Fact was that he was having an emotional epiphany because of sex and nothing had ever felt weirder and more weirdly delightful when it came to his friendship. Lois laughed by his side and held his hand, and the fact that she could read it in him only made it either worse or better — his expanded mind couldn’t tell with precision what was going on inside it.

"Oh, so you do have a mouth on you." Selina said, hand idly caressing Bruce's messed dark hair before pulling his head up with unnecessary force, making the man release a hitch of breath. "Beautiful, isn't it? Poor rich boy, he needs someone to put him in his place."

Now that Kent could see his friend's face, the affection quickly morphed into desire. His thin well-drawn lips shined glossy and hurt, for he probably had been biting them down for a while. Clark wanted to kiss him deep and then fuck that usually so smart mouth until he chocked and gagged. His left cheek was redder in comparison to the rest of his skin, probably where Selina had slapped him barely a minute before. Was it too sadistic to want her to do it again, so he could watch it, watch one of the most powerful men in the world stripped naked of his pride?

"Can he break free?" The sudden sound of Lois' voice startled her husband, so focused he was on analyzing every inch of his friend's body. The moment's context of having his wife watching him drool over Bruce Wayne’s naked image weighed on him and he felt his face taken by a hot wave. Selina, who was moving toward the camera, snickered before answering:

"No, besides the ropes, the restraints were made by himself to be inescapable", she explained with extreme casualness while picking the phone up. The camera changed to the front view as she walked back towards Bruce, still talking: "I tweaked some of them so he doesn't know how to unlock most of it." The camera focused on the tight ropes on his chest, masterfully tied in a way it didn't injure, but kept even the Batman still. Selina seemed to be kneeling in front of him to show her work, for now he could see Bruce's chest up close and wasn't it an image of wonders? He was so flushed, all the scars making a thread of white marks on reddened skin, his pink nipples rigid and swollen, looking as abused as his lips. Clark had no idea of what was done to them to look so raw without a single cut, rip or bite on the skin, but he sure wanted to be the one doing the trick. They were going to be hurting for a while and he couldn't stop thinking of the fabric of Batman's undershirt rubbing the sensitive skin. There was no way the Justice League's meeting next day would be spent without a single unwarranted boner.

"Can we speak to him?" Lois took the lead once more, probably realizing her husband was too busy drooling all over his chin. Clark had just noticed that they were talking about Bruce pretending he wasn't listening, and the poetic justice of it all was the pinnacle of perfection. _Take a sip of your own venom, Batman_.

"Lois, babe, your respect thrills me. He's all yours." There was it again, the same juvenile and sweet disposition she showed when answering Lois' call. A warm feeling took his chest for their friendship was adorable no matter how much of a criminal Selina was.

The camera went up to show Bruce's face and his fiancee held his chin in a tight hold, nails digging a little on his skin. "You can talk now, boy. Behave."

"Kent. Lois", he said in grave tone, bright blue eyes glaring directly at the camera. His gaze was sometimes so hard to look at Clark had to battle the urge of looking away, an instinct he learned to ignore after years of working with the man. It was also at that moment that he realized Bruce couldn't see them, that he had been exposed and discussed about without seeing for a moment the friends that so shamelessly watched him. _Nice_.

"If I knew that all we needed to make you docile was Selina, I'd befriended her sooner", Clark said, finding his voice the moment he glimpsed the chance of teasing Bruce. His friend put great effort in masking the smirk on his face as he snorted, not looking away for a single second, pretending to ignore the hand that kept his head in place. There was it, the prideful and haughty personality Superman admired and dreaded in equal proportions, showing up even while his neck was adorned by a slave collar and he needed permission to talk. Clark decided to risk it a little more: "For real, now every time you start to act up at the round table, all I'll be able to think about is you tied up." Now that got him a sardonic laugh and a click of tongue.

"And disrupt the meeting with a 7 inches pole showing through your ridiculous red undies? Spare the Leaguers, there are minors there."

His friend chuckled like a loon for a while, barely finding a second to answer. Even the girls were giggling as well, though it was clear that Selina was more worried about appraising the possible ways she could punish Bruce as told by how she tightened her grip on his face. Once again, _nice_ was the word that kept popping up in Clark’s eloquent mind every time she asserted her dominance over the Batman himself. _Nice_.

"You…" there came another fit of laughter before he could keep talking: "Oh my God, you are impossible. Obviously the Batman would be tied up naked and still down to out-sass me. Bruce, you are a piece of work, pal."

The man seemed to think for a while before giving his usual rhetorical and vague answer: "Am I?" And with that Selina seemed to judge it enough of talking, for she backed away the hand that kept his face firm in place, which resulted in Bruce's eyes looking down and away from the camera in a heartbeat, back to a submissive disposition that strangely fitted him so well. She was about to say something before Lois interrupted it by spewing useless information no one had asked for: "It's 8 inches", his wife said, cheerfully, because why wouldn’t she treat his oddities with unjustifiable naturality?

"Hm?" Bruce snapped back to his watchful state, bright eyes staring at the camera. To the death of his soul, Lois offered more of what no one asked for: "His cock. 8 inches, 20 cm and a half. He's a big boy", because superforce and flying weren't the only indecencies Kryptonian DNA had given him.

Bruce released a heavy sigh and threw his head back, looking to the ceiling as if praying for…

"Fuck me", he whispered, and Clark could tell it wasn't a desperate interjection but more of an obscene plea, proving the man to be the ever masochist without a single shred of self-preservation he had showed himself as since day one. Lois' hand released his and rested on his naked thigh, a quiet sign that she was aware of the massive hard on he had by now.

"You know what, miss Kyle? Would you be the ever so gentle host and show us his ass?" The Superman requested, just because he could, a kind of power he wasn't used to having in this friendship. He felt that if it crossed a line, they would let him know and he would properly apologize, simple as that. Selina made dealing with Bruce so much less complicated of a task; since their girls had grown closer, transparency had become a new factor in their friendship — a very embrionary one yet, considering that Wayne was still Batman, the bearer of secrets.

"Just because you cussed, boy scout”, Selina said, sounding happy to comply with his obscene request (and what wasn’t obscene about the scene they found themselves in?). But the gift of seeing Bruce’s naked butt wouldn’t come without an anteceding threat to the tied up man, her voice no louder than a whisper at his ear: "You don't behave properly again and I'll beat you raw." The goddamn Batman shivered and by that Clark knew she wasn't lying.

"I told you she's sexy", Lois murmured at that and both laughed. They were supposed to be having a serious adult talk, but instead were in the middle of an indecent video call with two of the most beautiful people they knew. What a time to be alive.

"Show us your tight boy cunt", Selina ordered, voice dropping down a couple of tones at that, and Bruce tried to tilt his restrained body without falling face first, with no success. His hands were tied together against the middle of his back and there was a pair of handcuffs and another one of intricate finger cuffs over it all, an assurance that he couldn't break free. It was just then that Clark realized how much pressure he should be feeling at his shoulders. Part of him wanted to massage it afterwards, though the other was too focused on the redness of his bruised butt; there was no way it wasn't going to stay that way for at least a week. How hard exactly did he like to be beaten? Not for the first time this night, Kent felt scared at how aroused thoughts like this made him feel — and how little self-preservation his friend seemed to hold.

Selina lost her patience after a few of his attempts that (to his credit) were destined to fail. So without a single vocal warning, she put a foot on his back. To Clark, it was obvious that she waited a moment until her partner could feel and understand what was going on before she pushed him with a forceful thrust, making him fall against the floor in a heavy thud. Lois gasped, a surprised smile on her face (they needed to have a talk about her enjoyment in watching Bruce suffer), not many being able to make her lose her composure the way her villainess friend did.

"You bore me to death, useless child", Selina said, her foot finding her fiance's back again and pushing him hard against the floor. With her toes she traced his spine, passing through skin to ropes, until it reached his raw ass, where she stayed for a couple of seconds caressing the skin with the tip of them. Clark heard Bruce taking a deep trembling breath that ended in a surprised hiccup, for without further notice she crashed his exposed ball sack in a well-aimed kick.

Bruce's reaction was far from expected: he moaned a strangled but luxurious moan, making Clark feel even hotter. The man was squirming against the floor for the hit wasn't a soft one, but the satisfaction and excitement his breath and heart showed were unquestionable — he craved the punishment, maybe even acted up to have it given to him. For Kent, that was the absolute sexiest component of it all. He remembered a time in which he used to have a crush on Batman due to his reliability, sturdiness, and intelligence and compared it to what he was being exposed to: a scene ten years younger him would never consider possible. What a weird but _nice_ development. 

His wife was giggling beside him, for sure fazed by his excited reaction: his eyes were glued on the screen as if nothing had ever interested him more than their current mid-quality video call. "Can we call this boner an inappropriate one?", she whispered, hand going from his thigh to the tip of his cock, which had popped out the underwear's top hem. To his utmost surprise, she rhythmically pressed the sensitive skin of it and Clark almost protested in a fit of pudency, tough soon enough he realized there was no reason to feel any shame, not when his friend's fiancee was crouching by his side to show from up close said friend's abused butt.

"On the contrary, very appropriate, please don't stop", he whispered back while inspecting Bruce's ass, and received a playful slap on the arm at his shameless request. The bruises on that firm muscular butt weren't light ones but the skin was fairly intact, which meant Selina hadn't been using a whip to get that kind of result. It was an arousing sight, he had to admit, not for the marks themselves but for the whole unknown context behind them: was he over her knees while being beaten, like a bratty kid in need of discipline? Or was he already corded up and unable to react, just accepting each and every blow for there was no way to stop them? 

With a single hand, Selina kneaded the swollen muscles, making the defenseless man writhe. Clark considered the usefulness of cold breath in a scenario such as this one and made a mental note to bring it up in the future (not that he intended on spanking Bruce, but life had already put so many surprises over the table he couldn't simply ignore the possibility of at least witnessing it).

The woman then started to push his buttcheeks apart, just enough to make his hole visible. Bruce trimmed his hair short down there, and the rim was so slacken and oiled up he knew what they had been doing before the call. Had she allowed him to come or had she fucked him while caged, so he felt every thrust inside him without being able to get a proper erection? Selina was perfect for his friend, reached parts of him he would've never imagined someone was able to — at the end of the day, Clark's biggest turn-ons were trust and love. To retouch the overall picture, she shoved two fingers inside him and moved them apart, a sight so obscene he had to swear some more. _Fuck_.

"I'm asking Lois to do the same with you, Kent", Bruce grunted in a sudden fit of impatience, voice muffled by the floor. Lois as expected giggled in pure delight, however stopping at the moment Selina closed her hand on her fiance's ballsack, gripping it with considerable force. There was more squirming and Bruce clenched his ass, as though he was trying to thrust against the floor in an useless effort of either fleeing the harm or looking for release. She looked at him with wide eyes and a nervous smile, having not expected more violence against the man's poor testicles.

"Pal, stop signing your own death sentence, you are going sterile if you keep this up", and with that Selina laughed at Clark's comment, using the moment to assert her caution and care in a purring tone: "Relax, Big Blue", then at Bruce, "your mistress knows what she's doing to her baby boy, doesn't she?" He hummed in answer, and satisfied by that she added: "His mistress is teaching him right, a dumb child like him needs rules so he doesn't embarrass himself. He needs orders and discipline from someone who knows better and can take care of his needs, because he can't fend for himself, aren't I right? Isn't your mistress so good to you, my poor defenseless child?"

At that, Clark felt almost guilty for watching, so intimate was the moment. A spell fell over the couple, for Bruce just murmured a yielding _yes_ followed by an assurance that his mistress was always right. There was no way he had forgotten the ongoing call, but the trust exuded by his words and actions was too overpowering to let him feel any shame or pride. If Selina wanted him to bow and humiliate himself to the whole world, he would, and as her answer to his steadfast obedience she in return would never put him in such a position. She needed no proof to know how far he was willing to go to please his mistress.

The woman herself was the one to break the seconds of pure magic he had just witnessed by addressing the two watching guests: "On a serious note, Lois, we need to agree on a time and place."

Clark wrinkled his nose at the assumption that Lois was the one deciding things — which she in fact was, no doubt on that one — and his wife chuckled again, hugging his arm. She bit the insides of her cheeks and narrowed her eyes as she always did when thinking, but her husband knew she already had a date in mind. The drama was just a way to make him softer for she was aware of how much he loved her strong personality and exaggerated expressions. Clark couldn't help but shake his head and grin.

"Metropolis needs Superman on Fridays' nights, but he can take a break on a Saturday morning, can't he?" The question sounded rhetoric and Clark just shrugged, a stupid conniving smile ready to accept whatever she pleased on his face. "And I bet gloomy and angry can wake up before midday as well."

The trio laughed, and far away Clark heard a dissatisfied snort coming from the man face down on the floor. "He'll manage", Selina said.

“And where are we planning to do this?" Asked the Superman. "Because, you know, the Manor isn’t very private and we have a kid at home as well.” Selina had an immediate response she had for sure debated with her fiance previously: “Bruce has a penthouse in Metropolis we can use.”

At that, Clark could only sigh at the scornful snort his wife couldn't hold, having he as well failed to keep in a sarcastic laugh. Of course he had a penthouse in a city just across the bay, because why wouldn't he? Selina herself chuckled at their indignation, probably sharing some of it no matter how deep into his life she was.

The camera went back to her face and the women started to share their goodbyes. Clark wasn't paying the most of his attention there, mind suddenly stormed by a realization that had evaded him for too long. He allowed a jocose smile to take his face before he spoke: "Oh my God, the League meeting, I'm seeing Bruce tomorrow." Once again, far from the microphone, he heard a discontent huff of air. "This is going to be so good."

\--

It was good.

They both got on the Watchtower early as usual, Wonder Woman being the only other League member in the conference room. The simple task of looking at Bruce without cracking a stupid grin was too big for him, and he had to stare firmly at the amazon not to get killed by a joy-hating Bat. They discussed matters only they had full knowledge of, and Diana asked twice if something of relevance had happened between them. One day she would slay them both for hiding too much from her, even after promising there were no secrets worth holding from each other.

After a while of anxious silence, she decided to get up and go to the restroom. It was a clear ploy to leave them alone to talk out whatever was keeping both the Bat and the Superman so tense. Would it make it better if she knew there was no conflict to be solved, but instead Clark had simply watched Bruce being consensually kicked and sodomized by his fiancee and he still didn't know how to deal with it? Of all people, Diana was the one less prone to judge them because not a single cell on her body cared for what adults did in the intimacy of their love lifes. Maybe all the testicle-hitting would even amuse her.

The moment they were alone, he decided it was safe to stare at the Bat, who was reading documents so unconcerned at Clark's juvenile excitement. He didn't look at his body but just at his face, the way he kept his brows furrowed whenever he was wearing the suit but had the cowl pushed — it was almost like knowing his face was uncovered was an unconscious nuisance and it showed by the way he favored keeping the cowl up even at the Cave. The paranoia ran deep inside him, and now knowing how he looked when utterly relaxed and uninhibited made his usual disposition even more concerning. How Clark wanted to kiss that frown away!, and maybe follow it by decking him because there wasn't a moment of their friendship in which the Batman didn't deserve a well-aimed punch on the chin. Let alone now that his friend was full of overflowing enthusiasm and still he kept on reading, the infallible jerk. 

As if able to read Clark's mind, he stopped his analysis of the document, gloveless hand taping over it a few times, and turned to his friend, icy blue eyes squinted in defiance. The unexpected action made the Superman raise an eyebrow, fishing for anything to start a banter instead of a staredown.

"That's an invasion of privacy", as always, Bruce never disappointed. Clark snorted a laugh and answered:

"Hypocrite", adding after a few seconds: "I wasn't looking though." This seemed to astonish the man, for he hummed an interrogation and went back to the stack of paper, probably pretending not to care so his surprise wouldn't be seen. But Superman wasn't letting this one go by his rules, and kept on talking with complete honesty. He invested all of his charisma on making his voice darker and lower as he gave the man an up and down gaze: "I can't see what I want from this angle."

Bruce smiled at that, an almost imperceptible amused smirk but a smile nevertheless, that small lip quirk that looked so good on him. If to have him losing his stoic facade all it needed to be done was some honest and clumsy flirting, Superman was going to invest in it. So he kept the sultry albeit smug tone going in his voice:

"And it's no fun looking under clothes, B, though right now I wouldn't complain."

They watched each other for a couple of seconds, no reaction showing. Then, instead of answering, Bruce did the usual Bruce thing: went back to his documents as if they hadn't been talking, face as impassive as ever. Clark felt a wave of disappointment and discontent take him, and considered excusing himself to take a walk of shame to his quarters until the meeting time. But his displeasure didn't last long, for without a word, Batman got up from his seat, as if he was the one about to flee the room. Instead, he kept on reading, hands flattened over the table, and followed it by a subtle tilt of his armored butt. Nothing overtly teasing, but enough of a sign for Superman, who knew him so well.

"Oh my God, you're impossible", said Clark, before losing it to a relieved grin. Batman kept on reading, unbothered as Superman stared at this rear end, super powered eyes looking at the abused skin marked by purple bruises. He wanted to dig his fingers in those marks and see what kind of reaction he could pull from his stern friend, although sadly there was a thick kevlar layer between him and the ass he wanted to touch. Still, he got up and slowly got near to Bruce, assessing his reactions to the approximation: though he kept his eyes glued to the documents, the easy half-smile was back on his lips. He showed no discomfort and Clark counted on him to speak up if he exceeded any limit, for he knew his friend and was aware that a wrong decision would grant at best a grunted _stop_ and at worst a right hook to the chin.

As his hands found Bruce's waistline, pressing down enough to be felt under the thick kevlar layer, the sound of a pair of feet thumping over the floor startled him. He looked at his back, fingers holding Batman's body in the most suspicious way possible, just to find Diana watching them with her unmistakable cheeky smile. He had lost the moment she quietly came in flying to pry on their conversation, an idea she probably gave up after realizing she was about to see more than she should.

While he felt his face growing hotter, the Wonder Woman talked, cheerfulness clear in her voice: "You two finally had sex", a sentence only her was able to say with unshaken calm and naturality. The Superman moved in shock with those words, getting as far away from Bruce as a scared jump could — not much of his dignity was going to survive until the end of that day. Batman seemed unfazed for he kept on reading, though Clark could hear an amused huff of air coming from him. So it was up to him to needlessly defend themselves, as if the assumption of them having sex was of the utmost outrageous nature and they weren't about to do exactly that three days later on the weekend: "Diana!", was his eloquent answer.

"So I am right", she said, her smile growing smug and amused. Bruce took the moment to finally turn to them, an eyebrow raised as he responded to her taunt with a smirk.

"Not really. Not yet", he admitted, which granted Clark another exclamation of horror: "Bruce!", which was ignored though by his peers, for Diana kept on talking as she got closer to him, a friendly hand landing on his shoulder in a soothing gesture. Her expression became grave and solemn and she stared deep in his soul with her piercing azure eyes.

“In Themyscira, we have rituals to show our appreciation for our sisters in arms. Love and pleasure are of no shame when done with respect and moderation. We could start a similar tradition in the League", he winced at that, the absurdity of such an idea making the joke fall flat. As a trio, they tended to be a humourless bunch, and a sex joke wasn't a thing he expected from neither of his two grim and dismal colleagues. But the hell-forged duo was chuckling, the Wonder Woman smiling from ear to ear and the Batman presenting an amused smirk. What a pair of beautiful motherfuckers.

After Diana recovered from her fit of laughter, she squeezed his shoulder and now looked at him with joyful sincerity: "Well done, Kal-El. Bruce is a skilled lover." He smiled back, thankful for her lack of judgment, as expected from such a valorous and loving woman he had the honor of calling his friend.

It took him a couple of hours after an unnecessarily awkward meeting to realize a poignant detail forgotten in the midst of the unnecessarily awkward conversation that preceded it. Before Bruce could teleport himself back to his cave, he held his friend's arm in a tight grip and enquired with aggrieved disbelief:

"How does she know that?"

The Batman slowly shook his head, but there was a soft smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE DON'T KICK A CAGED COCK OR TESTICLES UNLESS YOU AND YOUR PARTNER KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING. THIS SHIT CAN INJURE SO FUCKING SERIOUSLY IT'S NOT EVEN HALF A JOKE. Be safe!!!!!!!!


	3. Chapter 3 (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing erotica because you can write 3k words of explicit sex and no one can just say "that's a bad narrative choice". Wdym by narrative choice, dude? That's the whole narrative: they fuck.
> 
> Have fun, hope you enjoy this last chapter!

So the day of the fatidical rendezvous came, a beautiful Saturday morning in which the sky looked bluer than ever, and peace reigned in the uproarious Metropolis as crime was still deep asleep. Clark wandered around his apartment in jeans and nothing more, black curls pointing in every direction, damp chest shining in all its glory. On his face, the eyes of a man at the verge of a heart attack: could Kryptonians under a yellow sun die of pure anxiety? Because truth be told, as Superman he had fought Darkseid and Doomsday, but nothing could've prepared him for the sheer pressure of choosing what to wear to a four-away with Bruce "I'm very rich and elegant" Wayne. To his knowledge, there weren't any books explaining the etiquette of non-monogamous encounters with your best friend and, in God's name, he needed one right there and then. 

"You are going to tear a hole on the floor, Clark", said his wife, who he wasn't aware had entered the room; a bad sign that anxiety was clouding his mind. He couldn't help but let a nervous laugh take him for a few seconds as he looked at her, the gorgeous woman wearing a purple summer dress that almost matched her outstanding lilac eyes — at least as much as fabric could measure up to the rich color of her irises. It was a short dress that ended just over the knees, the lack of sleeves accentuating her beautiful and relaxed shoulders, along with a pair of white sandals and a messy ponytail that gave the whole look an air of youth. Being a mom, a career woman, and a public figure gave Lois little to no time to walk out there like that, casual and make-upless, and still sometimes he forgot how he wasn't the only super-busy in this family.

"You look stunning”, he said, that dorky smile of his brighter than usual. Lois laughed at that, blushing as if they weren’t a decade married couple. She approached him to plant a chaste kiss on his lips, then staring at his unreadiness with a reproaching head shake: “And you look half-naked. What are you waiting for, Kent?" Clark’s face fell in a desperate puppy-eyed grimace and he admitted his torment:

"I don't know what to wear without looking ridiculous." Since when he felt the need to impress and please Bruce’s sense of style he did not know, but wearing flannel sounded like the exact wrongest of moves. His wife caressed his face in sympathy, once again giggling in that way he learned to love so deeply.

"Just put on a t-shirt that doesn't look too tattered, you can even put it inside your pants if you want", they both grinned at that, having many shared memories of his unfortunate fashion choices. “According to Selina, we aren’t very lucky and Bruce is still dead asleep and butt naked. He can’t judge your clothes if he’s blacked out.”

Clark snorted at that: "To be honest, this doesn’t sound ‘unlucky’ at all”, and Lois reprimanded him with a strong push in his arm, though she didn’t pretend for long to not agree with the comment, covering her eyes with a hand and cackling loud and warm. "Oh, baby, you are not wrong, Bruce naked and not talking? He should always be like that.”

"I should defend my best friend, but you are not wrong, baby", he laughed at that as well.

"You already know it…"

"Lois Lane is always right, that's why I love her?" He asked, while taking the first shirt of the pile he had accumulated during his desperation, thus giving up on his chase for the perfect look. It was a black and tight fitting one, probably an old gift from Ma Kent of the time she had decided it was her mission to make him stop wearing so many oversized button-ups. Lois hummed appreciatively, caressing his chest.

"Love you, Smallville. And you wanna know what I'm going to love watching? You fucking our friends brainless, so hurry up." It was his turn to show appreciation by whistling, once again ripping a crackle out of her. This was going to work out smoothly.

  
  


He changed his mind the moment Bruce opened the front door of his ridiculously expensive penthouse, wearing a ridiculously expensive pair of sweatpants that sat ridiculously low on his hips. The playboy looked at them with an assessing scowl, eyes puffy and red of a man who would rather be sleeping. Even with his dark hair pointing in all directions and face shadowed by morning stubble, he looked breathtaking, strong chest full of scars exposed, happy trail forcing Clark to take too much effort in keeping his gaze level, bared arms all muscles and veins — and wasn’t it funny that he just now realized how rarely he saw Bruce with his arms uncovered?

As he spoke, his voice sounded husky and too deep compared to the usual clean baritone; and if the words being cut short weren’t enough to prove that he had just woken up, nothing else would:

"Kent", he nodded at him, curt as ever. Then, adopting that lopsided smile that was so Bruce, he reached a hand to the only person that could see him shirtless and still look unimpressed: “Lois, you look stunning.”

The woman smiled but didn’t take his hand, approaching for a hug instead. And since when was he the distant one and her the one seeking for contact? The interaction was miles away from the flirty side Bruce showed her during social events and it greatly pleased Clark that they could be so real to each other in private. The true Bruce was distant, respectful of people’s spaces and patiences, far from the playboy who drove Lois crazy very much on purpose; and she would play his game to an extent, at least until her ears were bleeding from the absolute crap he could spew when particularly inspired. Maybe that was a sign that they had always cherished each other, but Kent would never forget the face of his wife every time she answered being called Lois by him at professional settings with a grave and angry sounding ‘mr. Wayne’. He would never understand their friendship, but weren’t they both the most inscrutable and incredible people of his life? And just to prove it, she spoke, embodying all the mischief not many knew she carried:

"And you look like shit, Wayne.” Her words were harsh, but she kissed his cheeks. “Have you gotten out of bed just now, just to greet us?"

But before the man could confirm her assumption, Selinad decided to show up wearing nothing but an oversized shirt that for sure wasn’t hers. She approached them with a smile that could pass for sweet if it wasn’t for the malice in her eyes, and Clark would be damned if he said so, but she looked delicious. This time no amount of effort would be capable of preventing his eyes from staring at her long and toned legs, the cinnamon colored skin of hers that could drive a man crazy. "You are not wrong, honey, this lazy bat asked me to tell you to come later, so I had to kick his ass.” The kiss she gave Lois was too dangerously close to her lips.

Clark wasn’t the one to focus too much on odors, for the world was too full of those, but the way her sweet scent mixed with Bruce’s unmistakable woody perfume and sweat was captivating. What was with this couple that both of them smelled so distinctively nice? She was even the more stunning when looking homely and relaxed, for all the hard edges of having a leather outfit and a dangerous whip disappeared, right with her persona. Truth needed to be told: the Cat was dangerous, refined, almost criminally sensual and took shit from almost no one; but she also was witful and showed genuine curiosity for everything and everyone around her, seeking to know and to feel more. Maybe that was one of the things that Bruce saw in her: she lived intensely for deep down she loved life.

It was that exact same esprit that brightened her face as she stared at her friend from head to toes, smile going softer but no less dangerous. “Now I feel terrible for not dressing up, you look like a Hollywood sweetheart, Lois.”

"As if wearing pajamas would make you look less beautiful, Selina", his wife answered, and it wasn’t an empty pleasantry as he had eyes and was using them to drink up at her beauty from the second she had shown up. The women hugged again before the Cat’s attention was directed at Clark. “Super.” She reached for a handshake that he took half a second too long to accept, feeling out of place as usual. Her sweet giggle had no spite to it, but still he blushed. Behind them, Bruce watched with less of a frown and somehow, after years of trying to understand the Batman’s blank expression, Clark knew it was a look of contentment.

"We were just starting breakfast, please join us.” He at last said, then offering to pick up Lois’ bag and Clark’s jacket. The attitude almost made his friend laugh, for he rarely was able to see the man being a host in social situations. When he was at the Cave, Alfred would be the one making him comfortable and saying the usuals greetings — “hello, how are you?” weren’t expressions common to the Bat’s vocabulary.

"Actually we already..." He started to answer, but his ever so loving wife stopped him with an elbow to the side. "Sure, the omelette smells fantastic", she corrected, and Selina took her by the arm as they both chuckled (most possibly at him), disappearing in the direction he assumed was the kitchen. Bruce stood at the minimalistically decorated hall with a smug smile in his lips, arms crossed and piercing eyes catching his every move.

"You really don't know how to be social, Kent", he said after a few seconds, yet his tone was soft and playful, and Clark couldn’t help but grin at the friendly sneer.

"I'm sorry if I'm not trained in the art of playboy-ing, B", he answered and that granted him a raised eyebrow and a well deserved bit of Bat-sarcasm: "It’s called courtesy.” 

"C’mon, stop it. Everyone here knows you are an ass." Clark said, and now the man just rolled his eyes, moving in the same direction the women had gone before, giving up on the banter. Kent laughed loudly as he followed this morning’s host, a heavy hand patting the playboy’s shoulder. "You have an ass joke in mind but don't wanna give me the pleasure of learning that you have a sense of humor, am I right?"

Bruce’s grunt was enough for an answer.

Part of him was expecting a more direct morning.

He had watched Bruce tied and naked not even a week ago (the images still fresh in his memory) as they planned what they were going to do this exact day: sex. Part of him expected Selina to be all over them the moment they had went through the door, but instead the morning went away in the midst of freshly brewed coffee, a green salad that had no right to be as delicious as it was and the most easy-going talking he had ever watched Bruce partaking in. It was nice and comfortable, and he almost forgot the real event of the day until they decided to take their conversation from the cozy small table at the kitchen to the living room.

The first thing Clark noticed was that it was a big penthouse. The kitchen was large enough to have its own breakfast table, but still there was a dining room with too many marble surfaces in it. The living room was bigger than his whole apartment and wasn’t it ridiculous that a man that didn’t even live in the city had such a valuable property to call his own there? He was aware that Bruce collected safe houses all around the country and some more out of it, but most were of simpler nature and none that he knew of had an original Frank Stella hanging in it side by side with an all glass enormous wall that allowed him to see most of Metropolis from the top. As he sat with Bruce on this huge white sofa made out of clouds and unicorn leather, his eyes couldn’t stop staring at the piece.

“You like it?” Bruce suddenly asked, forcing the conservation about whoever senator making whatever bad decision to a halt. It took Clark a couple of seconds to realize what he was talking about, and an instant more for him to gather his thoughts about the outstanding piece of art in the wall. It wasn’t the most expensive of choices his friend could’ve made, but still it was an object he could only dream of ever possessing. Its mere presence had a strange effect on him, but there were no reasons to bug Bruce about it during this rare moment of peace they were having together. So he smiled and shrugged:

“Yeah, it’s an original, isn’t it? It’s… Amazing", and it truly was a thing of beauty in all its angles and colors. But Bruce, as usual, could see right through him and no smile was enough to fool the man he had the pleasure to call friend:

“I don’t like to keep originals. They belong in museums, where almost everyone can have the chance to appreciate them, like it should be.” He said, an arm coming to rest behind his friend on the sofa’s back. There was so much calm and relaxation in his tone that Clark could tell it wasn’t a lie, though reading Bruce was hard sometimes. Still, there was no reason for him to be untruthful and no one there he would wish to please or impress: it was clear that he meant what he said, something that wasn’t always true when it came to the Bat. “But this one was a gift.”

“From who?” Lois asked, suddenly very interested in the topic. She wouldn’t back off from a chance of seeking the truth in Bruce’s words, pushing him into corners until she had it, but differently from her husband she couldn’t really tell when he wasn’t hiding under a facade. It was Selina who, with an easy laugh, came to his rescue:

“From me. I stole it", and Clark knew that she as well had no reasons to lie. He threw his head back, resting it on Bruce’s arm, and laughed out loud. This couple was a match made in hell, and the way they worked should be a study matter in psychology. Still, he had learned to love them together, to love the rare joy in his friend’s eyes he had last seen before the death of a certain boy.

“Selina!” His wife complained, although she couldn’t hide the cheerfulness and amusement from it. Selina raised both her arms, her smirk as guilty as it could be.

“It was in the house of a deceased crime boss, who I didn’t kill!” Another round of laughs, this time from all of them. “Much of his stuff disappeared, this is just one of the never found pieces. In ten years maybe Bruce can pretend he came across it and donate to a museum.” Everyone turned their eyes at him, and the man simply nodded in quiet agreement — it was probably his plan all along, not an out of character thing for the crime fighter. “My first gift ever to him, imagine my surprise when I learned that he kept it.”

But even though the answer was satisfactory, the subject wasn’t going to die quickly and Clark knew it for there was something in Lois’ mind by the way she leaned in Bruce’s direction, elbows on her knees. The man raised an eyebrow at her, the corner of his lips going up in a crooked smile, ready for their usual dance of minds and (although neither would admit it) egos.

“It’s unexpected of you to say that you don’t like keeping originals. What about the pieces in the Manor?” The silence hung above them for a couple of instants, the realization of the fairness in Lois’ observation slowly getting to all of them but Bruce, who seemed unconcerned. “Like it or not, it’s an outstanding private collection.”

Clark whistled low, making Bruce side eye him, smile not receding by any fraction of an inch. Not many who truly knew the man had the prowess to challenge him to a quarrel and look as relaxed at doing so as Lois did. How much he loved that woman! But behind him his friend’s arm was still there, relaxed, no sign of feeling bothered by the confrontation.

“Many are personal to the family and present little value to the ones outside it. The others…” he licked his lips, hesitating for an instant, making Lois even more eager to get her answer as she raised both eyebrows and bit her lower lip. “I don’t like to touch my mother’s collection, as a matter of fact. But they are all going to a museum the day I die, no doubt.”

 _Oh_ , the movement in the room went from very little to absolutely nothing as they processed the heartfelt and unexpectedly personal answer. After a second or two, Lois’ lilac eyes went wide, a thunder of guilt crossing them. Bruce seemed unfazed, but Clark knew from experience how his reactions when his parents became part of the subject tended to be unpredictable, no matter if he or another was the one to bring it up. His wife at last sat straight, expression full or honesty and regret that she tried to convey in soft sounding words:

“I’m sorry, Bruce, I didn’t intend to…” She started, but was stopped by a dismissive wave.

“Please, don’t apologize, Lois. It was a fair question.” Bruce answered and once again there was too much truth on it. “It’s selfish on my part, but I can’t find the forces to change it as I live.”

Clark couldn’t remember the last time Bruce had bared himself so calmly, not since before he had lost a son, when he was still young and trusting of the ones who loved him. So not to let him afflict anymore honesty to himself, it was Clark’s turn to come in to rescue, leaning into his friend with a sympathetic smile in place:

“I totally get you, B.” The icy blue eyes of the man turned to him with a mix of curiosity and disbelief, not really ready to listen to what he had to say: “The world would love to see the Fortress, but the point is, it’s the only thing that remains from Krypton. Besides me. I want to keep it personal.” 

Just like that he closed the matter, making his friend hide his surprise with a smile of his own. It was a beautiful smile, truthful even if restrained, a rare thing to be seen in the stern face of the Bat, one more wonder from this fatidical morning. His own smile grew into a grin, feeling so comfortable in the middle of his wife and friends, all of them genuinely happy and having fun — that is, until Selina decided to talk, voice sultry and playful:

“Now you two kiss?”

A secret that not many knew was that Superman could choke. It wasn’t a danger to him for he could hold his breath for long without great damage, and his body wouldn’t shut down if a little bit of water or whatever else decided to follow the wrong route. What many hadn’t had the chance to see as well was Superman choking on his own saliva, because no matter how much of a dork he was, he still had a super body and could still hold onto his dignity most of the time. Considering that, the list of spectators of the rare occasions he had ridiculed himself was small: it was composed by Lana, Lois and maybe Pete and Kenny; not even Ma and Pa Kent. Now, it had grown by 50%, with Bruce and Selina having the rare chance of laughing at his red face and wide eyes.

“Cat", his long time friend sighed and poor Clark could feel the eye roll just by his tone. Somewhere in the distance, both women crackled at his demise, his wife being the loudest, as expected.

“Don’t look at me like that, Bat. Isn’t it the reason we are all here?” Selina said, and just like a cat she licked her lips at him theatrically. By then Clark could properly breathe at last, but he was sure that the way the woman was smiling would be enough to sooner or later send him into another coughing fit. So after a deep inhale and a grin to salvage his laid-back image, he spewed the first platitude that came to his mind:

“So… It’s cute that you call each other Bat and Cat all the time.”

And his time around, he more than felt the eye roll travelling all around orbit. “Shut up, boy scout", Bruce murmured, hand going from the back of the sofa to his nape. It was a warm and calloused hand, but ridiculously light on the touch. Icy blue eyes found his own and suddenly he realized how great of an idea all of this was: up close like that, Bruce was even more handsome.

“May I?” He asked, but Clark decided it was best not to answer, just closing the distance in between them to brush their lips together.

If it was up to him, he would have stopped there: a chaste, tentative peck between two people who were being watched (and all things considered, he would have to get used to the idea of being watched very quickly, otherwise this little rendezvous would be called out before the first round). But Bruce Wayne was a man on a mission and, without further asking, he stuck up his tongue inside his friend’s mouth, in a kiss so inviting he had to answer in similar fashion. The stubble felt nice in the strangest way, as well as the roughness of male lips and the faint taste of coffee. It was hot and hungry and quite not enough, not with Bruce’s shirtless body so near (and wasn’t it a low blow, to have this chest exposed and the promise of sex hanging heavy in the air). So Clark reached for his friend’s face, holding him as he was held, caressing his neck and jawline.

It also ended almost as suddenly as it started, with Bruce’s eyes watching him, assessing his reactions, as if he could be hurt. This was such a Bat thing: to care and worry about Earth’s strongest man and ignore that, if he didn’t want it, he could push his friend aside with the same effort any person needed to smack a fly. So to make things clear, he took his glasses off and went for another kiss, this time a longer one, free hand finding Bruce’s side and brushing the hot skin there. It wasn’t the most comfortable position he could think of, torso awkwardly bent in his friend’s direction, neck crooked. But still it was hot, and knowing that Lois was there watching (and satisfying that embarrassing fantasy of hers) made it… Pretty amazing, now that he had overcome his initial pudency. This time, when they parted, the playboy looked way less unsure.

“My turn?” Selina asked from the place she was sitting, not a shred of shame in her face. By her side, Lois’ smile hadn’t faltered for a single second and not for the first time that day he remembered how much he loved that woman. In answer, Bruce got up from the sofa, giving space to his fiancee to occupy, who swayed in his direction with such a serious expression that made the Superman himself shiver. “Confidence” wasn’t enough of a word to explain the way she walked, chin up, hips going up and down as if she could snap a finger and buy the world. Instead of sitting on the couch she settled for his legs, straddling him as she pushed his chest until his back was completely pressed against the sofa. To convey her message with the utmost clarity, she licked her lips like a dangerous predator would before hungrily closing the space that separated them.

Her kiss was the opposite of Bruce’s, fierce and unrestrained, and Clark was sure that any other person in his place would’ve lost their lip after the first bite. The lewdness of it all didn’t stop with her wicked mouth though, and she started grinding against him as they kissed, making him notice that under that dangerously short shirt she wore nothing but lingerie. Her thighs were strong and beautiful and exactly where his hands decided to rest, act that Selina saw as a green light to start caressing his chest, getting lower and lower by the second. His hips snapped up, clothed cock rubbing against the outline of her cunt.

When they parted for air, he realized Bruce was kneeling in front of the other sofa. He had one of Lois’ feet on his hands and was kissing her ankle, licking her skin, leaving a trail of gentle pecks and red marks all over her leg. Selina seemed to notice his interest, for instead of going for another kiss, she turned her head over, looking at the pair with a smug smile in place. By then, the playboy was mouthing Lois’ knee, and his hands caressed her thighs under the dress. She looked very pleased, a hand messing with Bruce’s dark hair as he kept on going with his ministrations.

“I told him to treat my girl friend as a princess.” The Cat confided to him in a whisper, though said loud enough so her fiance could hear it. The man snorted and Lois laughed, pulling him by the nape into a passionate kiss.

Watching one of his best friends (and the sexy one of the two indeed) kissing his wife was much more of an erotic experience than he had ever thought it would be, and having Selina sat right on his cock wasn’t making things easier for his self control. Bruce kneaded Lois’ hips under her clothes as she ate his mouth, taking control over the Bat, who was still on his knees, a position he looked pretty nice in. He grunted when the eager journalist pulled him closer, herself lying on the couch as he positioned himself in between those long fair legs and started to kiss her neck, a hand going so far up her dress Clark was afraid it would rip it.

It was when Bruce pulled her shoulder straps down, revealing her bra, that he did actually tore it apart while trying to undress her. Lois groaned loud and rightfully annoyed, pushing him off of her, and he backed away quick as lightning, clever eyes assessing the situation with complete attention and the caution he lacked a couple of seconds before.

“For fuck’s sake, Bruce, like Clark doing it wasn’t enough", the woman complained as she stripped herself off of the dress, throwing it in the floor, then pullying the destroyed bra off with unnecessary force. She was almost naked, beautiful round breasts a feast to the eyes, and both Bruce and Selina weren’t ashamed of looking like a pair of hungry hunters.

“I’ll buy you another", Bruce said with extreme calm, though his eyes didn’t stop scouring her body, searching for the next place he would like to put his hands on. As an answer Lois pulled him into an angry kiss. “Asshole", she murmured and as if to show how much he didn’t care by then, he grinded against her, both hands now occupied by her breasts. She didn’t seem to give a single damn either, for she was well found skin to hold and squeeze.

Clark felt Selina laugh at them before she turned to him, mouth immediately finding his neck. He sighed as she sucked and bit into the skin and decided to follow Bruce's example by finding her chest under the oversized shirt, happy that she wasn’t wearing a bra, otherwise there would be another piece of destroyed clothing this morning. Her breasts were smaller than Lois’, firmer as well, and so nice to the touch. He pinched both nipples, rolling them in between his fingers as they started to kiss again. The man would be ashamed of how hard he already was if he couldn’t feel the heat and wetness of Selina’s cunt grinding just above his clothed cock, as aroused as him.

He decided to check if her ass was as delicious as her breasts, holding it with vigor, kneading those strong and enviable muscles and pulling her closer to his body. He felt tempted to tear her underwear apart and fuck her right there and then like a teenager in a hurry, find out if that cunt felt as great as the rest of her body — although he already suspected it did.

When he decided to look again at Bruce, he was enthusiastically going down on his wife, head being smashed in the middle of her thighs, three fingers inside her wet pussy. Her fair skin was messed with saliva and redness, and that one mark on her right breast was going to stay there for a while. Maybe he was the slow one, or maybe those two were taking off the edge of their constant antagonizing, he couldn’t tell. His friend’s cock was tenting his sweatpants and what a non-surprise finding out that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He heard when Lois came, that unmistakable hitch of breath always such a turn on, the way her toes curled as the slow spasms took her spine.

“God, Lois, I want to fuck you.” Bruce murmured as he nuzzled her skin, caressing her sides with feather-like touches, kissing her abdomen and navel as he gentled her down from her first orgasm. Why he wasn’t balls deep in her already Clark didn’t know — and God, he was going to lose his shit if they delayed it more. What a thing to learn while under his best friend’s fiancee, that he really craved watching his wife being fucked by another man.

Out of sudden, Selina murmured against his ear: “You ok?” He looked at her big green eyes and saw a strange worry there. “You seem uncomfortable, Clark. You ok?”

“Oh, yeah", he choked out, face growing hot as he tried to put in words what was going through his mind, having none of the tranquility Bruce possessed when it came to sex (and blame it on Sunday school). She smiled at him, probably ready to ask if he wanted to stop, to which the answer would be a sound no. So he interrupted her, burbling out the first that came to his mind: “It’s just new territory. And… And I think I’m a cuck.”

He clearly said it loud enough to be heard by both his wife and friend, who were now laughing. Bruce had his head hidden against Lois’ belly and was shaking in a silent fit, and said wife was covering her face with both hands, cackling so loud her eyes were watering. Selina herself buried her face on his shoulder and was trying the best out of the three to stop the fit that took her, but he could feel the silent chuckle making her shudder.

It took awhile for the room to still, and although Lois was the one having the hardest time to stop it, Clark couldn’t really judge, for he had fallen into laughter as well. After a couple of deep breaths and another fit by his wife, Selina got up from his thighs (revealing then his raging boner, not that he was the only one carrying one in the room).

“Bedroom.” She said, more an order than a question, and Bruce promptly got up, pulling Lois with him (and if the League just knew how docile he could be…) His chin was drenched in her juices and Clark wanted to lick it from his face, something he realized he could in fact do. So instead of following Selina, he reached for his friend, embracing him into another kiss, to which he answered with eagerness for a few seconds, before parting and nodding in the women’s direction. Fair is fair, there were such things as priorities.

It didn’t end there, however. The moment they entered the bedroom, a giant one with a too large of a bed and enough windows for a whole house, Bruce backed him against the wall, now kissing him with the same intensity he showed when kissing Lois. His mouth was salty, tasted just like her cunt, and his hands were rougher in treatment, pulling his shirt away in a single swift move. When they were skin against skin, strong chests rubbing (and wasn’t it a surprise that the body hair actually felt good), Bruce started to frantically open his belt and jeans, just stopping when they heard the sound of his pant’s button hitting the ground.

“Asshole”, Bruce was called for the second time this morning, and somewhere in the room his fiancee laughed, but this time he didn’t bat an eye — the cons of being friends with the guy. The man squeezed his friend’s ass, pulling their crotches together, rubbing both of their hardness together as they kissed. Even in between the layers of underwear and sweatpants, the skin of it felt hot and fucking delicious — Clark wanted to touch it. So he tried to go for it, pulling the man’s pants down (with much more gentleness than he deserved, mostly because he had no idea how much it cost and wasn’t interested in learning), exposing him, the trimmed dark hair of his intimacy, the veiny shaft and reddened head of it.

But instead of allowing himself to be touched, Bruce backed off, a smirk on his face so devilish Clark almost feared it: “Maybe after I fuck your wife”, the infinite asshole then said, leaving his friend hanging — and it wasn’t like said wife’s husband was going to complain, for in his mind only two words came to him: _fucking finally_.

So he got to the bed in all his naked glory after kicking the sweatpants fully off, where the women weren’t waiting for them. Lois had her mouth on Selina’s breasts, who was grinding against the other woman’s skin, hips rolling rhythmically, movements eye catching and entracing. The Cat’s body was so different from his wife’s: where Lois was soft and plump, her friend was athletic and rigid, all hard edges. Her nipples and cunt were darker, as were her lips, beautiful on her olive skin. Everything about her was mesmerizing, from the way she moved from the scars that covered her back and front, a complex thread that told the story of her life — and that one day would tell the story of her death.

But the Bat didn’t let them have their fun together for long, pulling Lois to a messy kiss, getting a throaty laugh from his fiancee. _Selfish_ , she complained, although there wasn’t much she could do now, for Lois already had her arms around Bruce’s neck and was bringing his hips closer with her legs.

“Kansas.” Selina called, crooking a finger at him, what despite the context still made him blush. “Behind you there are some condoms, take two and join us. And for God’s sake, take off your clothes”, and he did, freeing himself of his destroyed jeans and already damp underwear, throwing the foil packets a little too vigorously at Bruce’s head, who just gave him a cold angry stare back.

Bruce clearly wasn’t in the mood for foreplay, for as soon as he had protection on he slipped inside Lois in a single hard thrust, face to face with her, two extremely eager people trying to get off as quick as possible. She had both legs bent around the man’s body, meeting his every move. As they both fucked like animals, Selina was pulling Clark closer, making him sit by the headboard, hands caressing his broad chest in circles.

“Relax, farm boy.” She whispered against his ear, where she licked before continuing: “You like watching your wife getting fucked, don’t you? Don’t take your eyes off of them, let me take care of this”, and her hands were doing those things to his balls, cradling and fondling them with too much force, enough to hurt any other man. Maybe that was her thing, being brutal and rough, and he was the best person on Earth to be under her domineering touch, because it didn’t hurt for a second — in all honesty, part of him was very sure that he could get off just on that.

So he followed her instructions and watched, bewitched by the way Bruce plowed into his wife, ruthless and careless, and she answered in the same energy, scratching his back, biting his neck. Meanwhile, Selina had gone from his balls to his cock, stroking rhythmically and licking just the very tip of it as she did so. Not to be the worst lover on Earth, he pulled her closer, in a way she could suck him still but he also could reach a hand to her cunt. He started touching her by gentling circling the wet folds of her intimacy, an almost weightless caress. When she tried to force the finger inside her he backed off, rather going directly to her enlarged clitoris, the small huddle of nerves being swollen and hungry for attention. She moaned in surprise when he started to move his digit in inhuman speed, giving her a nice and constant vibration.

Instead of losing her concentration, Selina seemed to double her efforts, for soon she had half of his cock inside her mouth — an amazing feat considering how big he knew he was. It didn’t take long for her to come, stumbling on her rhythm for an instant as she moaned around his cock. It was a hard thrust of Bruce inside his wife however that sent him over the edge, the choked yelp of hers as he came buried deep inside of her. Not long after, Clark gently pushed his friend’s fiancee away, painting her hands with come as she kept on jerking him off. His orgasm kept on going for longer than she expected but she didn’t falter on her touch, and after a last long pulse it stopped and he let himself sigh, content and ready for the next.

“Hey, aren’t it..?” She asked once she realized he was still hard as nails, the head of his cock purple and swollen.

“It isn’t going down anytime soon”, he answered, uncomfortable as he felt all three pairs of eyes in the room focused on him. Selina seemed pretty satisfied, for she leaned for a kiss, nails digging into the skin of his chest. “Yeah? Then why aren’t you fucking me?”, she murmured in the middle of the kiss, fishing for the condom packet as she straddled his legs.

“He doesn’t need it,” suddenly said Bruce, who by now was just watching, having Lois laying in his arms. They looked ridiculously hot together, sweaty and less hurried now that both had worked this thing between them out of their systems. “The condom. He won’t tell you off because he’s the biggest boy scout around, but he doesn’t need it.”

Selina looked at him, her lips rounded in a silent “oh” as she awaited for confirmation. Clark merely nodded his head and shrugged, deep down thankful for his friend’s intervention: not that condoms annoyed him that much, but he wasn’t used to them after years of having a single steady partner.

Without further discussion, the Cat got on her knees, cunt aligned with the head of his cock, rubbing agaisn’t him so slowly it was maddening. He held her by the waist, allowing her to sit on him at her own pace, feeling the hotness and tightness of her cunt engulfing his shaft. Everything about her was delicious, the way she bit her lower lip, the way she rolled her hips during her descent, how she felt amazing around his cock, and soon enough he lost his patience, slipping all the way in to the base.

 _Fuck_ , he was deep inside her in this position, and couldn’t help but ask if it was ok. “More than ok, fuck”, she moaned and he started to move, pulling her down as his hips went up, hungrily hammering into her, every thrust accompained by a hitch of breath. By their side, Bruce had a hand on Lois’ cunt, caressing her as they watched.

There was a thing about being balls deep into someone else as his wife watched, a thrill and sense of danger nothing could quite equal. Having another man’s hands all over his own wife made it all the way hotter, painting the whole picture with sweet depravity. It was the taboo that was doing it for him, the fact that all of this was supposed to be so wrong but still everyone around him was having such a good time, everyone wanted it as much as he did. Freeing oneself from morality shackles; learning to feel pleasure and pleasure others without shame; seeing his own needs with naturality and valorizing what truly mattered: consent, love, care, pleasure, reciprocity; all of this was exhilarating and so tremendly gratifying. He felt great, and he felt human to his core.

Selina’s moans paired with the thump of bodies moving against each other were the only noises filling the room. Even her moans were beautiful, the low and throaty sounds that escaped her mouth every time he slipped all the way in, filling her more than any other man could. Bruce had a thick cock, but he knew his own was in a whole nother league, stretching her more than she was used to, making her cry in pleasure as it rubbed the sensitive spot inside the walls of her cunt. She shivered when she came again, going limp on his hands but still allowing him to keep on fucking her.

And like that he came again, painting the walls inside Selina with so much come it dripped from her although his cock was deep as it could be inside that hot and amazing cunt. The shivers that came down his spine were so strong he felt the world going blank around him, the only remaining sensation being pleasure. She seemed to find her strength back, for she kept on riding him all the way until his last spurt of cum, nails digging into his shoulders in a way that would’ve ripped skin apart if he was any other man, hips rolling until she achieved another orgasm with a song so similar to a purr he could almost be sure she was in fact a cat.

This time, she fell onto the mattress and pulled him with her, like an older cat forcing a kitten to accept her caresses. He more felt than saw Lois getting closer and slipping in between his arms, for he had his eyes closed and was riding the last spasms of his intense orgasm. He lazily hugged her sweaty body, appreciating the mix of hers and Bruce’s scents, the warmth of her embrace. The man himself was walking somewhere around the room but it wasn’t like Clark cared, not while he was in the middle of this sweet cocoon of cuddles. That was probably the reason why he didn’t see the water bottle that hit his head in a precise and strong throw that could cause a concussion.

“Hey!” He complained, picking the following bottle before it hit its target — his dick this time. Around him the women giggled, and Selina stole the first first projectile that had been shot at him, and he offered the second to his own wife.

“You ok?” The Cat asked, after chugging the water down, her smile easy and friendly. He nodded at her after catching the third and last deadly missile, now laughing at the asshole he called his friend and his undying hunger for vengeance.

“And you, hun?” She asked Lois, who mumbled an almost unrecognizable _terrific_ as she opened the water bottle with her teeth (because she couldn’t fucking ask). “Bat?” After a positive grunt for an answer, Bruce took his spot in between Selina and Clark, butting them both to open space under the complaints of _spoiled_ and _asshole_. “Nice. Hydrate, take a piss, eat a fruit, next round starts as soon as Bruce’s dick goes up again, count it twenty minutes, more or less. Then lunch.”

Lois’ head popped up from her husband’s embrace, looking directly at Selina with a naughty smile. “Will there be a third round?” She asked.

“Eager, I like it.” Her friend said, kissing her directly in the lips, with too much tongue, right above Clark who couldn’t help but feel like an intruder. She murmured after, nuzzling Lois’ face: “As many as you want, baby.”

Bruce groaned in mocking irritation, but it was Clark the one who complained:

“Get a room, you two sapphics.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talking about fucking (ehe), covid fucked me good for a while and I'm so happy I finally finished this fic without a killing headache to halt my fanish writing. It wasn't a serious case, but fucking God it was AWFUL. Take care, please please wear a mask, don't travel this Christmas, be mindful of your health! I got the thing at work and my tasting nerves are still dead as it can be, don't put yourself in danger. If you are in Brazil as I am, PLEASE STAY PUT, the hospitals can't take more patients in most cities! Take care, my batlings!


	4. Chapter 3 (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY NATIVITY, HOW WAS CHRISTMAS? Here it was rainy and we had lots of good food!
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: ... weed?
> 
> Hope you like it!

All these days earlier, when Clark and Lois had had a talk about what they were going to do in a bedroom with Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, cuddling wasn’t an expected feature (and he wasn’t going to complain!, for he was the exact type of person who valued a good session of hugging and snuggling). But no matter how much he was enjoying the moment, it would be a lie to say he was prepared to be crushed by his friend’s possessive and strangling affection. Bruce was tall, had a broad chest and strong arms, being overall built like an UFC fighter who really liked strength training. How did Selina manage to survive sharing a bed with a touch starved young lion? Would his friend find out if he made a personal research on her meta status? (What a stupid question: his friend was the goddamned Batman, part of the League still believed he was able to read minds).

Still, it was surprising how much he didn’t care for being the Bat’s 6 feet tall personal body pillow. He had Bruce’s hands idly moving around his chest and kisses being planted all over his shoulders and neck — it was scary how good the most rage inducing man he knew was capable of making people feel when he had his mouth occupied. Discovering that such man was not only a snuggler but a passionate one was doing all kinds of weird things to his cock, and it wasn’t like it needed any more incentive after the first round. There had to be a place in which the Bat could relax, somewhere he wouldn’t spend every second afraid of showing his emotions, being loving and vulnerable, where there were no contingency plans nor surviving strategies plaguing his mind — it wasn’t a surprise that place was in bed, surrounded by people he could trust (not that he would ever admit it). So Clark was more than inclined to take advantage of that newfound discovery, leaning against that warm chest, sighing at the soft nibbles and even softer pecks.

When people talked about heaven on Earth, he tended to laugh at the idea: to the Superman, Earth would always be filled with too much sound, screams of people he couldn’t always save, the cry of mothers and their kids, the metallic thud of car accidents. The best he could do was to isolate it all, choose what to pay attention to, like a person reading in a too crowded place. It wasn’t always easy, and sometimes even the mightiest man on the planet tended to feel his head ache. But there, with Lois messing his hair and Bruce being unprecedentedly kind, external noise couldn’t reach him. Just like Heaven.

However, there they were two Justice Leaguers, a known criminal and the biggest journalist of the country sharing that room: in such conditions, peace wasn’t an option. Sooner rather than later someone was going to go for a scenery change, try something to break the lull that had slowly set in bringing with it glee and comfort. So when Selina got up and left the bedroom, staying out for no more than five minutes doing God knew what, he was already expecting a surprise. Still, nothing could’ve prepared him to what came after:

“Do you smoke, Lois?” The woman asked as she swayed back to the bed, then sitting at the headboard near her friend, delicious and sensual body still naked for the whole world to see because shame wasn’t even a thing anymore in that room. She had a joint in between her fingers and a lighter on the other hand and at that Clark stilled, head going from her to Bruce in successive motions.

“What’s that?” He questioned, sitting quicker than he had intended to, even if deep down he knew the answer already. Although he had lived in a metropolitan city for a while, and even though drugs wouldn’t leave him as scandalized as they used to when he was trapped inside of a bible belt small town, the surprise still was clear in his raised eyebrows and confused eyes. Besides him, Bruce’s shoulders were trembling as he chuckled in that restrained way of his, and by his other side Lois had a knowing smile on her face. He was surrounded by co-conspirators.

“Weed?” Selina answered, eyes shining in fake innocence as she shrugged. It was clear she wasn’t by any means embarrassed, especially after she held the joint in between those amazing plump lips of hers, lighting it and taking a small drag. She offered the hand rolled cigarette to Bruce, who stretched himself over both Clark and Lois to grab it, being the usual asshole only he knew how to be. “Before you feel the need to arrest us for drug possession, be aware that cannabis for recreational use is legal in the state of New Jersey”, he said, staring at the burning paper for a while as he took the jab on his scandalized friend, who for sure wasn’t expecting the Batman to be doing anything besides drugs prescribed after dangerous injuries — and sometimes not even that. Still, the way he held the joint was entracing, low in between index and middle fingers, and Clark couldn’t stop staring as he took a long drag and closed his eyelids, holding the smoke inside his lungs before looking back at the Superman, a smug smirk in place as he shifted closer.

“Not in Delaware, though. And don’t look at me like that, you know I’ve always been pro legalization, pal.” He complained, but Bruce clearly had no intention of picking up a fight, for instead of trying to taunt him once again, the man simply stopped near his face, noses almost touching, and blew the fragrant smoke. Clark tried to contain his grin and express offense, but it would be a lie to pretend this mocking persona of his friend wasn’t endlessly amusing. Before knowing him, Bruce Wayne was nothing more than an airhead playboy with mildly interesting takes — years of friendship made him value his terribly sneering sense of humor. “Was it necessary?” The journalist said, but there was no bite on it; he was smiling.   
Instead of answering, Bruce reached for his nape and dragged him into a kiss, fierce and passionate. If he had thought their previous kisses had been arousing and lascivious, nothing compared to this one: the way Bruce worked his tongue inside Clark’s mouth, maddeningly slow, and both hands explored his chest, the sensitive skin of his sides, up to tease his nipples and down to caress his hips. The man was leaning over him by the end of it, pushing him down with extreme care, forcing him to lay over the bed as he was straddled by a pair of muscular thighs and an amazing ass that was sitting right over his cock, sending his already aroused body into full awakeness.

What a picture it was. Bruce looked like a deity, too human to be a god but too divine to solely be a man. It wasn’t just the strong muscles, or the dark chest hair that became a line along his strong abdomen, ending in the well trimmed pubes of his crotch, where his soft cock lounged. He was uncut and the skin there was as pale as the rest of him, flushing easily to the point of redness. There were so many scars all over his body the ensemble of it all had its own chaotic harmony, a long and painful story to tell. Clark liked stories, and he liked doing what was right, fighting by the side of honorable companions; and he also liked the dark hair that pointed to all directions if it wasn’t combed and put in place, and those blue almost gray eyes that could see through the greatest of mysteries, accompanied by a face so stern and rustically beautiful its handsomeness was timeless. Still it wasn’t just about the body, but also about who that man was — his aura, if you will, the way he could make people gravitate around him and throw their lives at battles for justice. He prided himself for taming darkness and becoming its righteous king, but he felt like a star.

Without thinking twice, Clark pulled his friend closer, going for another kiss. One of his hands went directly to that ass, grabbing it with enough force to bruise, hoping that to be of the playboy’s liking. He wasn’t wrong, for the moment he did so his friend sighed in the midst of their kiss, kicking off a rocking motion while they kept on eating each other’s mouths; a slow and sensual sway that left Clark gasping for more.That thick cock was starting to stir up again as they grinded, and here was just so much he wanted to do to that body: he itched for kissing every little scar on it, putting his mouth every he could, sucking that succulent member until it was swollen and red to then fuck the man until he could take it no more, until he was exhausted and utterly spent. He realized too late his own cock was leaking all over Bruce’s navel, too much precum making a mess of him.  _ Nice _ . Clark had no idea if he should be ashamed or aroused by it for he felt like an uncontrolled teenager, but part of him loved the idea of smearing every inch of that body with saliva and cum. As they kissed and grinded, his hands got bolder, and soon enough he had a finger teasing the rim of his friend’s tight hole.

“Go on.” The man murmured, baritone voice dropping an octave lower, and Clark shuddered below him. At first, he had no intention of slipping a finger inside Bruce without lubricant, but the sounds the playboy was making were enough to drive anyone out of their sound mind. So he appeased his friend’s desire and forced in the tip of a digit anyways, not letting the man go down any further, tormenting him with not enough depth nor friction.

It wasn’t entirely surprising when he felt Selina’s lube coated hand taking his place at stretching Bruce’s tight hole, because there was no possibility in heaven or hell that he was moving from under the man to do so — if no one had come to aid him, he was pretty sure he would’ve rutted against that body until both of them had came. Having no time for preambles, she fingered her fiance in earnest, stretching his hole as he fiercely kissed Clark, who was enjoying the way the man’s shaft was hardening as they grinded, now the two swollen heads rubbing against each other from time to time, making them both hiss and grunt.

“He likes it rough. You need to be stretched wide and deep, don’t you, baby?” Selina said, her deft hand giving a hard thrust inside Bruce, who buried his face on Clark’s neck and groaned like an animal. As an afterthought, Clark realized how wrong he could read his friend: where he expected macho posturing and restrainment, he found a debauched almost maenadic man, unashamed of giving in to pleasure no matter in which form it came. His lust was intoxicating, being as passionate and fiery towards it as he was in everything he threw himself upon. 

“I bet he could come just like that, he had done it before.” The siren of a woman continued, and Bruce stilled, breathing becoming harsh and shallow as he held Clark’s arms in an iron grip. The way such a strong man could become so powerless underneath the hands of that petite vixen created a ravishing picture and, not for the first time, the Superman wondered why exactly he used not to like her. “But he doesn’t want to, he wants to come with that cock buried deep inside his tight boycunt, don’t you, Bat?”

In the frenzy of his lust, Clark had forgotten the presence of his wife and was almost surprised by the moment he heard her murmuring:  _ shit, that’s hot _ . He looked at her at that, realizing she had the joint on her hands and was smoking it, something he wasn’t aware she even knew how to do. He had no energy or desire to complain though, for his attentions once again were pulled by Bruce whispering on his ear:

“How do you want it, Kal?” He said, before nibbling the nobule of his ear, rolling the soft skin between his teeth. If Clark knew choosing was going to be on him, he would’ve thought of a position way earlier when there was still blood in his brain and he hadn’t just been called by his birth name in that low, luxurious tone. He kissed Bruce again, both hands on his face, caressing his cheeks in loving strokes, as if he wasn’t about to wreck the man until he couldn’t walk throughout the following days. It took him a couple more kisses and a dangerous deadly stare for an idea to hit him like a lightning bolt, and he opened a grin before dropping his voice to an almost whisper:

“On all fours, Wayne”, and if the mildly ordering tone of voice was deliberate, he wouldn’t ever admit.

Bruce could later say he wasn’t that eager to get righteously fucked by his best friend and partner in crime, but the way he immediately moved was quick even for the Bat, getting on his knees and hands like a needy… Slut.  _ A needy cock slut _ . Clark wasn’t even aware his mind could come up with that colorful of terms in bed until then until he had Bruce fucking Wayne of all people on all fours, puckered rosy hole relaxed enough to fit a cock. He looked lovely and that was doing terrible things for the Superman’s good guy persona.

Instead of being as hasty as his friend, Clark turned to Selina, who lied limp in Lois’ arms, smoking with her as they quietly caressed each other without further intent. Both women looked tremendously relaxed, which only reinforced his idea: so he reached for the halved joint, receiving an inquiring look from his wife. 

Although watching Bruce fucking her had fulfilled a handful of his sexual fantasies and some more he wasn’t even aware he had, there was still one he hadn’t accomplished that morning (besides fucking Bruce). Clark couldn’t stop thinking of his friend’s relaxed and calm face when he was all tied up and being punished by his bad behavior. He wanted to reach that point, to have the Batman himself going limp and spent in his arms, minus the humiliation and violence part — he wasn’t ready for that… yet. To reach his goal, he was going to play with all of the available cheats.

Then with weed in hand, he positioned himself behind Bruce, cock nestled in between the cheeks of his firm ass, controling his own sex-crazed brain not to throw it all away and fuck him at last. He pulled the man to be straight on knees with ease, arm making sure his friend’s back was tightly pressed against his own chest. “I want you to relax, leave the rest to me”, he whispered, putting the joint near the man’s lips, who quickly accepted it, as a hand traveled through the hair trail of his navel, feeling the heat around his crotch, finally reaching his heavy ball sack. The playboy took too long of a drag that neared the cigarette’s butt, granting him a mockingly impressed whisper from Selina, at which he snorted, offering the joint back to her. Clark’s hand was kneading and massaging his testicles with infinite gentleness as he kept the smoke trapped in for a while, making him throw his head back and sigh in appreciation.

Instead of forcing the man back to his hands, Clark decided to hold him there, because what even were plans anymore? Bruce looked like an offer at an ancient and forgotten sex ritual, held by his hip and chin, chest exposed in complete vulnerability, skin flushed, penis red and swollen. He took upon himself to seize his friend’s cock with both hands, lining it with his own lubed hole, slowly descending upon the thick head. Either his pain threshold was too high or he got off on being torn apart (and Clark suspected it was both), because if it wasn’t for the strength of the Superman keeping him from self impaling in a single move, nothing else would’ve stopped it

Bruce was tight, or maybe it was Clark’s nerves making every inch of skin on his body a thousand times more sensitive. As soon as he felt the head of his cock getting inside, he kissed his friend’s nape, a messy and wet caress full of tongue and teeth. He knew the man was impatient and was trying his best to get it going, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was hurting him on their first time and in front of both of their life partners — neither Lois nor himself would forgive him for that. Bruce was stubborn but Clark was resolute and, in this specific battle, it was the stronger one who was going to prevail.

“Damn it, Kent, fuck me already, you insufferable boy scout.” The Bat complained, though to everyone’s ears it sounded like a desperate plea, one that Clark enjoyed more than he should’ve — a little revenge for a whole decade of being bossed around and growled at.

“No ‘Kal’ now, B?” He whispered, and Bruce trembled,  _ fucking shivered _ in between his arms, and no amount of self control was enough now to make him care about doing it the right way: he instantly snapped him hips up, tugging the man down at the same time, causing them both to produce breathy and cut moans. _ Fuck _ , and maybe the Bat was regreteful of his own hurry, for now that Clark was so deep inside him he was able to understand the sheer size of the man, to feel that he wasn’t even near the base of that magnificent cock.

“Tell me when I can…” The journalist tried to utter, part of him aware that he needed to be reassuring of Bruce’s power in the situation and to keep him from hurting himself due to his infamous and stupid stubbornness. Instead of taking the hint and acting like a normal person, the man just grunted a disgruntled  _ now _ , making Clark snort in disbelief.

To make things easier, he sat over his own ankles and slowly pulled his friend together, this time all the way down. It was scary how tight and hot he was, how being inside him was already so maddeningly delicious,  _ fuck _ . So as soon as Clark felt that Bruce was going to complain again, he started to thrust into the man, holding his hips with bruising strength to keep him exactly where he was supposed to be: steadied on the cock that was impaling him. It wasn’t what Clark had planned but now that they were there, he couldn’t stop. It for sure wasn’t a comfortable position for the Bat, but he seemed not to care, reaching for the journalist’s face with a hand and drawing him into a messy kiss.

After realizing he was neglecting his friend’s cock, which was twitching and pulsing in needy despair, Clark tried to reach for it to give him a little pleasure, because he knew the man wasn’t going to come just by being fucked. But Bruce slapped his hand away, breathing a  _ not yet _ , and once again he remembered what he had learned of his friend days ago, during that remarkable call. The image of the playboy tied and with his cock caged wasn't an easy one to forget and at that he had the most obvious of realizations: Bruce enjoyed the denial. What he had done with Lois was nothing but foreplay for him, because now he was getting a little of what he truly craved, the submission, the absolute trust, the sharp bite of pain, the _ denial. _ It wasn’t like Clark cared (that much) for being higher on the man’s list, but knowing that he wasn’t just an afterthought or merely the requirement for someone who wanted to fuck his wife was rewarding. With that in mind and a couple more deep and hard thrusts, he came.

This orgasm was like no other he had ever had. He was spurting come all over Bruce’s insides, holding him as close as he could, almost hoping he could merge their bodies. Over him, the man’s breath was erratic and he had let a louder than expected moan escape, a delectable sound Clark wanted to hear more of. The first wave left him hazy and shivering, and he had to lay his forehead on Bruce’s shoulder. The second one was longer and even more devastating, and this time he bit his friend’s neck, moaning like a rutting animal as he almost felt pain from the way his balls tightened and pulsed, and there was so much cum that it was leaking from that tight and amazing hole he had just fucked like there was no tomorrow.

“Can you keep going?” Bruce asked after a few seconds of heavy breathing. Sex didn’t tire Clark, but coming like that would always make him need air, and the heart in his chest had the terrible tendency of going wild. But considering how hard he still was (and his friend surely could feel it), he told nothing but the truth: “Sure, I… Sure”, stumbling on his words as his nerves tried to get into functioning again. Rather ungracefully his friend pushed himself away from his chest, clumsy getting on all fours without detaching their hips. He followed the man, covering his broad back with his own body to then lick the flushed skin there, trying to ignore the red bite mark he had left on the neck (and if he only knew how much crap he would hear because of that mark).

There was enough cum inside of Bruce no more lubricant was needed. The wet sounds it made as Clark went back into fucking him were enticingly lewd, and coupled with the thud of their bodies meeting and the groans that escaped the man’s mouth, the journalist was falling into delirious delight. Selina had a hand under his friend, not jerking him off but merely caressing his shaft, giving nowhere near enough the friction he needed, and thank God because if he didn’t have the chance to suck the man off, he was going to go insane.

He murmured sweet nothings against Bruce’s skin, awkwardly at first, but quickly gaining confidence by every hitch of breath and long sigh. The Bat was quiet: reading him required attention and Clark was enjoying to the fullest using all of his concentration into assessing every little reaction. He talked and talked, fishing for sincere responses:  _ can you hold it for me? _ , mixed with  _ you are so fucking hot _ ,  _ I want to suck you, God, you are tight _ ; admitting that he wanted to use him, to fuck into that hole for hours until he blacked out, until he had no more energy to keep it going. He wasn’t even aware he had that mouth on him, but that was before Bruce had shuddered at the first dirty compliment and he knew he had to keep on going so he could force out of the man more of these lovely reactions. If he just knew all these years ago how nicely he responded to praise, how good it made him feel… He would’ve never restrained himself, would’ve never been afraid of embarrassing the Bat, making him uncomfortable by displays of affection and admiration. That stern facade of his was nothing more than a mask who made him able to be more than the man he was, to be the symbol he turned himself into, although deep down lived a boy so hungry for love.

This time when he came he didn’t wait for the waves to pass, immediately detaching Bruce from himself and turning the man at super speed, slamming him against the headboard. There was cum spurting all over and soaking the bed sheets, but he didn’t care for, as he shivered, he was holding his friend by the abs, keeping him in place so he could go down on him, ride his own long orgasm as he ate that aching cock. The hurry was such he had barely had any time to look with attention at that delicious member, to map all the veins and textures of it as he had done to the rest of his friend’s body. Bruce was thick and heavy in his mouth and the taste of his skin wasn’t by no means bad — having it on his tongue actually felt better than he could’ve possibly imagined. So he sucked the Bat eagerly, letting the swollen head of that cock hit the back of his throat. It wasn’t a skilled blowjob, but his friend didn’t seem to care for he fucked into his mouth like control wasn’t a word he knew anymore. They couldn’t and wouldn’t hurt each other, so rough and fast was more than ok. Later Clark would have time to pretend he knew what he was doing, to go slow and gentle: now, just like his friend fucking his wife, he only cared for quick and intense until they blacked out from nerve wrecking orgasms.

When Bruce came, he pulled Clark’s head against his crotch, forcing himself so deep into the man’s throat he could barely feel the taste of the cum spurting inside. It was frenetic and mind wiping and he didn’t care if he was bruising the Bat, not when he had him shivering underneath, and when he could hear heart and blood pulsing in pure bliss, feeling the sweat that soaked that pale skin from head to toe. It was better than his own orgasm, or maybe it was because Bruce had come so quickly his peak wasn’t even over yet.

When the high of it started to subside and he could feel that cock softening on his tongue, Clark rolled his head to the side, landing on Bruce’s muscular thigh. The man was built like a bald King Kong, huge and pure muscle, but the Superman didn’t really care for discomfort when he could keep on nuzzling the hot skin and enjoying the leftover neurotransmitters of his orgasm. There was a calloused hand caressing his hair and he was moving his own thumbs in circles on Bruce’s skin.

It was at that exact moment he needed to be remembered how peace was not an option, because if God existed, he wasn’t fond of Superman. Somewhere in the room his wife was calling for him, voice higher than usual and in a note of anger:

“Clark Kent, what the hell happened?” She said, accompanied by a strained laugh from Selina. He had no idea of what she was talking about, but her alarm was clear and if there was a thing he would never ignore was Lois Lane in a state of alert. So he looked around, at first having a hard time to believe that after all of these years, it was now that he had screwed it over to the highest degree. He couldn’t talk, he could barely breathe, and sure as hell all of his limbs felt like concrete. 

“It’s ok, Lois, I can buy a new one”, said his friend, scarily detached from the situation as just the Batman could be. Having the Bat of all people not making a big deal of a thing tended to be a good sign, but now was just a step closer into  _ God help us _ territory. Clark was sure his eyes were so wide they would pop from his face before he could say anything.

“For God’s sake, do you think I give a single fuck about the headboard, Bruce?” No matter how many times Bruce and Lois partook in endless bickering, there was genuine worry there. They were two biggest personalities on Earth and their friendship was a reflection of that.

“Are you ok, B?” Clark finally found the courage to ask, after he had scanned his friend’s body for any bigger complication. Though the Bat seemed safe and unharmed, what worried him wasn’t just the physical part of it, but above all there was the blatant abuse of trust. It wasn’t only the goddamned headboard that was broken in half: there was also a crack in the wall and maybe in their friendship. 

“I feel some bruising, nothing I’m not used to, boy scout”, said the man, as expected ignoring the actual question, pretending feelings weren’t really a thing. He knew Bruce was strong, he knew Bruce had had worse, but in the name of Krypton’s Rao, he had never been attacked by the Superman before! Clark took a deep breath and looked directly into his friend’s eyes, trying his best to convey his guilt:

“Bruce, I know what I’ve done is unforgivable”, he sighed, as well aware that he had no right to lose his mind in the moment, “and I know that I don’t deserve your trust after that, but…”

It was at that that Selina snorted, an ugly and loud blow of air that stopped him on his tracks to look at the woman. She was contorting her face in an ugly grimace, cheeks so red Clark was afraid they were about to explode. As he tried to ask if she was ok, Bruce started chuckling and she finally lost it, laughing in a high pitched cackle that resonated like a vice through the bedroom.

“You two…” Clark murmured, expression going from guilt to disbelief in an instant. “Oh my God, Bruce, you two are too stoned.”

Now it wasn’t just Selina laughing, but his own wife, who seemed convinced enough by Bruce’s nonchalant disposition. She hid her face in her friend’s shoulder, trembling like an earthquake she cackled and cackled in a husky and gleeful laughter. Bruce was more controlled as he would always be, but there was still a smile on him as he said:

“For God’s sake, Kent, I’m not stoned — by the way I’m surprised you even know that word, — and I’m not dead nor injured. I also very much enjoyed the roughness, but a little bit more of planning could go in hand, and maybe a more resistant bed.” So he was ok. Still, Clark couldn’t subscribe to this fact because no part of him saw what had just happened as ok. He would lose control when he was a child, hell!, he would lose control as a teenager. But as an adult? A parent and a Justice Leaguer? He couldn’t afford it and Batman couldn’t accept it! So he protested:

“Next time? Bruce, I almost seriously injured you!”, to which the Bat waved a dismissing gesture.

“Oh, shut up, we won’t be able to go into the third round with all of that self pitying drama. Accidents happen, my friend, we just learn and do our best not to repeat them.”

The absurdity of it was so outstanding Clark’s mouth worked quicker than his mind: “Hypocrite much?”, but Bruce seemed ready for a rebuttal of sorts, for he swallowed the words almost as soon as they left his friend’s mouth in a kiss that they took too long to part. When had him become the emotionally mature one in the friendship? Or was it that when sex was involved he felt comfortable enough not to be the asshole the Superman had learned to respect so much?

“You can’t hurt me, Clark.” _ I trust you _ , was what he meant; not that he would ever admit it. Clark took a deep breath and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used to be straight edge and since I became a little less radical I tried weed once and coughed like a 60 years old tobacco smoker, so it's not an endorsement of weed use, I just read that New Jersey is in the process of legalizing recreational marijuana and felt like writing something related to it. YEY, good job Americans, I'm not from the USA but I'm happy for you!


End file.
